


One Track Mind

by DaisyDogOx



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Has A Palace, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amazingly!, Angst, Big Bang Challenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Goro Big Bang 2020, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired By Tumblr, It's a bad time okay?, Self-Destructive Behavior, hoo boy where to begin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyDogOx/pseuds/DaisyDogOx
Summary: Name: Goro AkechiPlace: JapanDistortion: TrainUpon accidentally discovering that Tokyo's favorite Detective Prince has a palace, the Thieves decide to change tactics and change his heart instead.It doesn't go as planned as they find themselves experiencing Akechi's past and learn there's more to him than meets the eye.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira
Comments: 23
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, _please_ mind the tags on this! Individual warnings will not be given.
> 
> And now that that's out of the way, allow me to introduce the one behind this idea in the first place: [Soph](https://doodleodds.tumblr.com/) created the Train Palace AU, which can be found [here](https://doodleodds.tumblr.com/post/629938326417326080/me-thinkin-about-season-2-of-infinity-train-my), and I threw myself at her DMs and asked to use it for the Big Bang and here we are 43k words later. Thank you for letting me use it and I am so sorry for the past two and a half months of screaming <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He took a deep breath and hoped they didn’t realize his hands were shaking under the table. “I thought I was the leader around here,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.
> 
> “And _I_ thought the decision had to be unanimous.”
> 
> “Why are you so opposed to taking a single trip to Mementos and helping his Shadow?”
> 
> “ _He killed the parents of two people in this room._ ”

Akira was vaguely aware that the others were fighting. He knew that it was his job as their leader to say something to bring them together again, but his head ached and his vision swam as he listened to them argue. It had only been a week since the events of the interrogation room and he was in no shape to be walking around Leblanc, let alone infiltrating a palace, but they had to change Shido’s heart before the election. Progress was slow even without injuries that weren’t magically healed upon entering the metaverse. Twisting hallways and complicated puzzles blocked them at every turn. It was clear Shido knew more about cognition than they did.

His headache seemed to worsen at the thought of the man. Ever since he’d learned that Shido was the one behind his false charge and subsequent probation in the first place he found his thoughts wandering in that direction more and more. Especially when he was confined to the café with a mess of injuries ranging from cuts and scrapes to bruised ribs and a broken leg. When it was Shido who gave the order. When he’d sent a boy only a year older than Akira himself to finish the job.

He rested his head on the table, squeezing his eyes shut as his friends’ voices only grew louder. He was content to just drift for a moment.

His brain seemed to have other ideas as it supplied him with the mental image of Goro with a gun to his head, even though their plan had worked-- _well, I didn’t die_ , he thought bitterly--and he hadn’t come face to face with the boy in that room. He knew his breathing was uneven but he just hoped the others were too involved in their argument to notice.

He wasn’t so lucky as Ryuji looked over at him and his hands curled into fists.

“I’m fine--” he started, not picking up his head.

“You’re not _fine_ ,” he grit out. “You look like shit. Why didn’t we do more? We _knew_ what they were plannin’ and we still let you go in there and get the shit beat out of you! Why didn’t we change Goro freakin’ Akechi’s heart, huh? He’s gotta have a Shadow!”

Morgana opened his mouth to protest that a persona was a Shadow, but the voice that spoke wasn’t his.

_“Candidate found.”_

They all stared at Akira’s phone and Makoto was the first to break the silence.

“We’re not changing his heart.”

He picked up his head, giving her an incredulous look. “How can we not when we know he has a Shadow?”

“Akira, he _shot you in the head_. Or tried to, anyway.”

He didn’t want to raise the point that Goro had been forced to do that. His friends still didn’t know about the extent of their relationship--he didn’t even understand it himself. Instead he settled on, “That’s all the more reason we _should_ , so he doesn’t continue causing mental shutdowns.”

“If we change Shido’s heart there won’t be anyone to _order_ shutdowns,” she insisted. “We’re sticking to the original plan.”

He took a deep breath and hoped they didn’t realize his hands were shaking under the table. “I thought I was the leader around here,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

“And _I_ thought the decision had to be unanimous.”

“Why are you so opposed to taking a single trip to Mementos and helping his Shadow?”

“ _He killed the parents of two people in this room_.”

Futaba coughed into her fist and they whipped around to look at her. “It’s… not just a Shadow,” she said quietly.

“ _What?_ ”

“Absolutely not.”

“Akira, you can’t seriously be thinking of taking on two Palaces at once--”

“We’re already stuck in Shido’s, aren’t we?” he snapped. “Why not change tactics? Maybe we could even convince Akechi to join us. He knows more about Shido and the metaverse than any of us do.”

“This is _insane_ ,” Makoto said, looking at the rest of them. “You all realize this is insane, right?”

“We don’t even know his keywords,” Ann added.

They all fell silent. Yusuke was the first to speak up again.

“Police station.”

“ _Yusuke!_ ”

_“Conditions have not been met.”_

Futaba sighed. “His apartment.”

_“Conditions have not been met.”_

“Café Leblanc?”

“The TV station!”

“Tokyo.”

_“Conditions have not been met.”_

“Seriously?” Ryuji whined. “I thought for sure with that ego of his--”

“Japan,” Akira said, more to himself.

_“Candidate found.”_

They all turned to stare at him with abject horror and he avoided their gazes. “Onto the distortion?”

* * *

“Arcade,” Ryuji said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

_“Conditions have not been met.”_

Morgana scowled, his tail thumping on the table. “We don’t know anything about him!”

“Guys, we’ve been at this for over an hour,” Ann said tiredly. “Why don’t we call it quits? The next train’s coming soon and--”

_“Input accepted. Beginning route to destination.”_

“Wait, what?”

Akira squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as the distortion settled around them. When he opened them, he found that they were all still sitting in Leblanc in their uniforms.

“What the _fuck_?”

“Akechi sees Japan as… a train?”

“No, seriously, what the fuck?”

They all looked to him and he half-shrugged. He didn’t have any answers for them either.

“If it’s the whole country, how come we aren’t… y’know, on a train?”

“We _did_ enter the metaverse, right?”

“I think? I mean, Mona looks like that.”

“Where do you get on a train?” Futaba asked out of nowhere.

“What? A station.”

They all shared a glance before turning towards the door.

“This is a terrible idea,” Makoto muttered.

The first thing Akira noticed as they stepped outside was that the backstreets were empty. Nobody browsing at the secondhand shop, the little girl and her dog missing from the corner, and no one in front of the supermarket advertising their latest deal. The second thing he noticed was that everything else was exactly the same.

“We’re in the metaverse, right?” Ann asked again.

“Of course,” Morgana said, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“I know he works as a detective and has to pay attention to details but this is insane,” Akira said, more to himself.

The station was the same in that it was a perfect replica, save for the fact that it was completely empty. Ryuji jumped the turnstile and grinned as he turned back to the rest of them. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Makoto just sighed. “Is no one else bothered by the fact that we’re not in our metaverse outfits?”

“It _is_ strange,” Yusuke agreed. “Surely he sees us as a threat after everything we’ve done.”

Akira kept his mouth shut. It wouldn’t do them any good to know that the boy likely viewed them as insignificant and not deserving of being a threat. Instead he stared down the tracks, where he could hear something rattling.

“I think this is ours.”

They all stopped arguing amongst themselves as the train slowed.

“What the _hell_?”

An old steam engine inched forward but the aesthetic stopped there. Behind it were a mix of boxcars and passenger cars, and even then they didn’t all look the same. It finally came to a stop and the doors to the subway cars opened, although nobody stepped on or off.

Futaba took a step back. “Guys, are we sure about this?”

“I thought we decided as soon as we activated the Nav,” Ryuji said.

“No, _he_ activated the Nav without any say from us,” Makoto said, glaring at Akira. “And won’t Akechi realize if we go poking around his heart like this? I mean, he _is_ a persona user. He shouldn’t have a palace in the first place! And he’s spent years in the metaverse. He has to understand it better than we do.”

“I mean… he doesn’t view us as a threat if we’re not in our outfits,” Ann said, shrugging. “Maybe we’ll be safe.”

“Or maybe we’ll be completely defenseless to whatever horrors this palace holds because Akechi is the one behind the mental shutdowns.”

“How bad could a train even be?” Ryuji asked.

“Palaces are the manifestation of one’s distorted desires, and Akechi’s desires are apparently so distorted he sees _all of Japan_ as a railyard running this train. And you want to just sneak on board and _hope for the best_?”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Yusuke asked quietly.

“Yes! We retreat and keep working our way through Shido’s palace, the way we’d originally planned!”

“I think we should at least give this a try,” Ann said, refusing to look at the girl. “I don’t like Akechi either… but are you really going to tell me you aren’t curious about what his palace might hold?”

“I just… Joker, you can’t be serious--”

They all startled as the whistle blew and he hesitated. “...We don’t know when we’ll get another chance like this,” he said at last. He jumped aboard the caboose and made sure there weren’t any shadows before gesturing to the rest of them. “Well? Come on!”

* * *

The Nav beeped and Goro dragged a hand down his face, nearly scratching himself with the claws of his gauntlet. There were so many more names than usual. He was afraid the reports of so many people at once would raise some kind of suspicion but Shido had just insisted it be done that day.

He knew it was his punishment for screwing up the week before.

He could feel Loki buzzing in the back of his head, ready to move on and take out their next target, but he didn’t have the strength to get up.

Trips to the metaverse alone were miserable. He had no means with which to get around except on foot so he was tired by the time he reached his second or third hit of the afternoon, and battle only made things worse. By the end of his trips he was usually reaching for his gun, when calling upon Loki took too much out of him. That didn’t even touch on the fact that neither of his personas had any _useful_ spells with which he could heal up after a fight. And so he was left fighting his way through endless floors with no respite until he finally reached a waiting room, where he could tear into whatever convenience store snacks he’d managed to snag on his way to Shibuya.

That day it was seasonal oden he’d gotten from the Triple Seven on Central Street. It tasted more like cardboard than anything else and he forced it down. It did little to relieve the fatigue that seemed almost worn into his bones at that point.

Goro knew he needed to get up or he wouldn’t be able to later, but everything ached. A Girimekhala had caught him off guard and landed an unlucky hit that had reopened the wound on his side that had just finished healing the week before.

“What did Kurusu say he could do?” he muttered. “Remind the Shadows of their true selves?” What he wouldn’t give for the ability to convince one of them to join him and heal his wounds. Instead he was left choking down medicine that healed him a bit at a time, but even then it was never enough.

The thought of Kurusu made his chest ache, or it might’ve just been the medicine taking effect. It had only been a week since he’d shot the boy in the head and the memory had his stomach threatening to bring back up what he’d already barely managed to swallow.

 _I need to get up_ , he thought, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate.

He gave himself another two minutes to rest before he dragged himself to his feet and started towards the stairs that led deeper into Mementos, Loki calling for the death of their next mark.

* * *

“The door’s locked,” Ryuji said, tugging on it uselessly.

“Leave it to Akechi to have a locked door as his entrance,” Futaba muttered.

They all turned to him and Ann put her hands on her hips. “What now, Joker? We can’t advance if we can’t even get inside.”

He avoided looking at them and instead gripped the railing, looking at the neverending tracks that stretched out behind them and the skyscrapers on either side. _Think, think! There has to be a way around this_.

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. Then he felt his fingers close around something and was careful to keep his expression neutral as he pulled out an Alert Capsule.

“Well, we _are_ in the metaverse,” Morgana said. “Even if your clothes haven’t changed, it makes sense you’d have everything with you. I think.”

“You _think_?”

He frantically dug through his pockets until he found a lockpick.

“It’s not a chest, it’s not gonna work--” Futaba started.

He ignored her and tried it, fiddling with it until he heard the telltale _click_.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not? Nothing else about this seems to make sense, like why he has a palace at all.”

“Are we really doing this?” Haru asked softly, the first she’d spoken up since they entered the metaverse.

“I thought we made that decision as soon as we snuck onboard.”

“I know! I just… We don’t know what to expect,” she said weakly.

“I’m with Haru,” Futaba said, her head down and eyes trained on the ground. “This is different from all the other times, except maybe Makoto’s sister. We _know_ Akechi. We _worked with_ Akechi.”

“Akechi tried to _kill you_ ,” Makoto added.

Akira bit his cheek to stop himself from saying something he’d regret and just slid the door open, disappearing inside. He heard the rest of them scramble after him but he was focused on the interior of the car. It was… boring, honestly. He’d spent many afternoons by the tracks back home, not having anything else to do, and it was a boxcar just like those he’d seen before, right down to the dust in the air and the scuffed up floor.

Then there was the sound of a camera whirring to life and the room filled with light, even though there weren’t any windows. An image came into focus, rippling as though they’d activated the Nav again. When it settled they were outside, standing on asphalt that housed a playground in the distance and trees as far as he could see. It was as if they’d stepped into another world.

 _It’s like the Velvet Room_ , he realized.

He heard a voice behind him and whipped around to find his friends doing the same, and a moment later they heard laughter. Makoto latched onto the nearest thing, which happened to be Yusuke’s arm.

“...You guys heard that, right?” Ann asked, and they all shared an uneasy glance.

Before anyone could reply, three kids ran past them, almost _flickering_ in the light. Makoto’s grip tightened and Yusuke gently tried to pry her off.

“No, I’m not doing this,” she said, her voice strangled. The door they’d come through seemed to have disappeared, with only more asphalt and a wrought iron gate behind them. “No, no, _no_ \--”

Futaba’s head suddenly snapped up. “They’re not real.”

“What? How do you even--”

“I don’t have Prometheus but like… I can _feel_ it. And it’s telling me they’re not… ghosts, or whatever Makoto is afraid of. But…” She hesitated. “They don’t feel like cognitions either.”

“I knew this was a terrible idea,” Makoto murmured, frozen in place. “He knows too much about the metaverse.”

“Uh, guys?”

They followed Ryuji’s gaze to where a group of children were gathered in the distance.

“Should we…?”

“Might as well.”

They were almost grainy to look at, Akira realized, like an old video. They were in a circle and cheering and yelling, and it took him a moment to notice the two in the center.

Haru’s breath caught. One of the kids was a younger version of Akechi. His hair was shorter and dirtier but it was clearly him.

“My mom said _your_ mom’s a whore,” the other kid spat.

“Holy shit,” Futaba said, and nobody told her off.

Akechi didn’t even hesitate before punching him square in the face.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Futaba said again.

The kid just drew back and wiped his now-bleeding nose. “She said you’re just a bastard child and that’s all you’ll ever be. She told me not to talk to you, but I thought you should know.”

Then Akechi was on top of him without warning, throwing punch after punch. Still he continued spitting insults, and from what Akira could hear they were mostly directed at his family and his living situation. He dug his nails into his palms and forced himself to stay where he was. Whatever it was, there was nothing he could do.

An adult--a teacher, probably--finally rushed forward and all but dragged Akechi off the other kid. His clothes were dirty and his face was red but he was otherwise unscathed. The same couldn’t be said for the other boy, whose face was a mess of blood. He still looked smug as Akechi fought back against the arms holding him.

Then the scene seemed to freeze in place before fading, the light dimming and walls closing in until they were standing in a regular, empty boxcar.

Yusuke was the first to break the silence. “What _was_ that?”

“I can’t believe Akechi used to be a punk!”

“ _Ryuji_ , this is serious.”

“I am being serious! Did you see the look in his eyes? The way he tried to keep going even after the guy pulled him off? There was no remorse!”

“That’s probably how he looked in the interrogation room,” Akira mumbled, and he realized too late he’d said it aloud as they all turned to him.

“Hey, are you… okay?”

He knew someone was talking to him but he couldn’t tell who. They all sounded the same, voices muffled and tones sickly sweet as they pretended to care. He knew that they didn’t actually, that the only reason they’d come along at all was because they were afraid of him going off on his own and getting into trouble. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d done so.

He swallowed thickly and put his shoulders back, wishing desperately for a mask that wasn’t there to hide behind. “We should keep moving.”

“How? There’s no-- wait, what?”

What had once been an endless expanse of pavement had disappeared to reveal a door.

“We have to watch the memory in order to advance.”

Haru was shaking, though whether with fear or anger he couldn’t tell. “And we have to do this… how many times? Just however many it takes until we reach… what, exactly? What are we doing?”

He could sense an argument brewing and tried the door before anyone else could speak up. It was locked, just as he expected.

Ryuji gave a sigh of disgust. “Is it going to be like this every time? How many lockpicks do you even have? I know you make them in class sometimes but--”

He was cut off as a speaker crackled to life and they all looked around, although there was nothing there.

 _“Attention stowaways!”_ came a cheery voice. _“Your presence is known and will be dealt with shortly! There’s no need to fear, as it will be quick and--”_

It stopped just as suddenly.

“Was that his Shadow?” Ann asked, a little dumbfounded. “He sounded… happy.”

Akira kept his eyes trained on the floor. “That wasn’t him,” he said quietly.

_“I should hope you wouldn’t think so, Kurusu.”_

The voice came out of nowhere.

_“All those afternoons spent playing darts… evenings at the jazz club… Well, if you couldn’t tell the precious Detective Prince from the real me, I’d be more than a little insulted. That being said, why are you and your friends on my train?”_

His tone was different. More clinical. More… unnatural, somehow.

Makoto shot him a glare. “Darts and the jazz club? Exactly how much time were you spending with him?”

Akira shrugged half-heartedly. “As much as with the rest of you.”

“And what were you doing on these outings?”

Morgana stepped in front of him protectively. “Hey, he was gathering information! Right, Joker? To use against Akechi later and better plan for Sae’s palace when it came to that.”

He swallowed thickly as he remembered the many evenings spent with Goro, and how rarely the conversation ever drifted to the Phantom Thieves.

“Joker?”

“Yeah, meetings,” Futaba muttered. “Not dates at all. There’s surely another explanation for why you’re on first name terms with him.”

 _“If you’re quite done interrogating your leader on his personal life,”_ the Shadow said, sounding almost bored. _“My question still stands, you know. Why are you on my train?”_

“Where are you?” Ryuji demanded.

The Shadow didn’t answer, not that Akira expected him to. “Akechi,” he said, almost warningly.

_“A train can’t run without a conductor, you know.”_

“So all we’ve gotta do is reach the engine? That’s probably where your Treasure is, too!”

“Well?” Ann asked, hands planted on her hips. “Can you at least give us a hint?”

_“Kurusu, would you let your friends know that I don’t speak to unauthorized passengers?”_

“You son of a--!”

“Answer the question,” Akira said.

The Shadow laughed, something cruel and inhuman, and Futaba flinched. _“Just because I answered before doesn’t mean I take orders,”_ he said, his tone much flatter. _“Don’t forget who’s running the show here.”_

“Just wait until we get up there, I’m gonna beat that smug look off of your--!”

 _“That being said… It’s been awhile since I’ve had any real entertainment. I suppose I can let you advance a little bit. If you think you’ll survive, that is.”_ He laughed again before it cut off.

“We need to get off this train,” Futaba mumbled, pulling at her hair.

“What? What happened to changing his heart?”

“He’s not… He’s not _right_. I can’t summon my persona but I can _feel_ it, and it’s telling me we shouldn’t be here.”

“Akira, I think we should regroup--”

“One more car,” he said. “I want to see what he meant at the end there. I know Akechi, and… he would never _willingly_ let someone in. He’s plotting something.”

“All the more reason we should get out of here! We can’t summon our personas, we don’t have any of our weapons--all we have is whatever else is stuffed in your pockets.”

“One car,” he assured her. “Then we’ll go back, regroup, and decide what to do next.”

“We shouldn’t _be here_ ,” she repeated.

He chose to ignore her and tried the door, finding that it opened with ease.

“...Great, the Shadow controls everything.”

* * *

Goro’s head fell from where it was resting against his hand and he snapped awake, immediately on high alert. He only relaxed once he realized he was in his apartment and the only danger he was in was potentially failing his upcoming exams. He pressed his palms against his eyes, dragging his hands down his face. He had _told_ Shido his end of term exams were coming up and he needed to maintain his position at the top of the class if he were to keep up his reputation, but the man had insisted that the long list of names were all necessary.

He tried to focus on the math problems in front of him but the numbers seemed to swim around the page and he groaned. His phone buzzed on the table beside him and he grabbed it, grateful for the distraction.

His gratitude turned sour as he read the message, a list of names from an unlabeled contact. Even more to take care of the next day.

He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to scream. “It’ll all be over soon,” he muttered. “Just a little bit longer.”

* * *

“Aki-er, Joker, wait,” Makoto said, and he ignored her and wrenched the door open. The first thing that hit him was the _smell_ and he pulled his shirt up over his nose. It was a passenger car unlike the previous, but it looked as though it had been long since abandoned. The seats were torn and covered in dust, and the wood itself was rotted and looked as though it might not support his weight.

 _It’s all based on cognition_ , he told himself. _It’s fine_.

A scream rang out before he could get a good look at everything. It came from Ann, who had fallen to the floor and was staring across the car in horror.

Suspended from the luggage rack was the body of a woman, her neck at an unnatural angle. Even in the faint light they could see her soft brown hair and Futaba began to gag.

“His mother,” he murmured and they turned to look at him incredulously.

“H-How would you--”

“Oh what the _fuck_ ,” Ryuji whispered, stumbling backwards.

The body lurched, straining against the rope, and its neck straightened with a sickening snap. Akira felt bile rise in his throat.

“ _We need to get out of here_ ,” Futaba said, scrambling to her feet.

Nobody bothered arguing. They all turned to where the door had been a minute ago but it was gone.

“No, no, no, _no, **no**_ \--!”

He frantically dug in his pockets, looking for anything that would buy them time. The body staggered forward and he was acutely aware of how small the car was and how close it was to them. Finally his hand closed around a Goho-M and he all but jumped over Ann, who was still on the floor, and pulled her to her feet with his free hand.

“Alright, get in close!” he snapped, and a moment later the floor dropped out from under them.

When his vision stopped swimming he was all too aware of the mass of bodies laying on him and the whispers of those around them. He groaned and pushed the nearest person--Haru as it were--off of him. As he dragged himself up someone pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and he stumbled.

“What was that for--?”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Makoto hissed, and he realized they were in the middle of the station and people were giving them odd looks.

 _Shit_.

Everyone else slowly got up except Futaba, who had curled in on herself and was digging her nails into her arms. She was silent but he could see tears streaming down her cheeks and he crouched down next to her.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s okay, we’re out. We’re gonna go back to Leblanc. Can you get up?”

She gave no indication that she’d heard him at all.

“Akira--” Yusuke said warningly, and he realized someone in a uniform was looking their way and speaking into a radio.

He sighed. “I’m going to carry you, okay?”

Slowly she let go and held out her arms but her expression didn’t change. That was enough for him and with Ryuji’s help he got the girl on his back.

“Phantom Thieves, move out,” he muttered.

They were all silent as they made their way back to the café and Akira’s thoughts raced, already formulating a plan for when they went back in. They’d have to figure out some way to access their personas or at least their weapons if they wanted to survive--or maybe if they had their weapons on them when they entered they’d keep them? It would take some trial and error. If they went without personas they wouldn’t have access to spells and they’d have to stock up on healing items.

The ringing of the bell over the door tore him from his thoughts and he heard Sojiro swear under his breath. He was suddenly very glad the shop was always empty.

“What happened to her?” he demanded.

Akira gently put her down in a booth. “A panic attack. We wanted to get her somewhere familiar. Can you get her some water?”

“You’d better have more of an explanation than that,” he grumbled, disappearing into the kitchen.

The rest of the Thieves all but collapsed in the empty seats and Akira drummed his fingers on his leg. He chewed at his lip for a moment before he spoke up.

“So I’m thinking for next time--”

Makoto interrupted him immediately. “You want to go _back_?”

“Obviously. The first infiltration is always rough and while this was definitely worse than most, we learned a lot and can build on it--”

“ _Akira_.”

“What?”

“You can’t be _serious_ ,” she said. “That… That _thing_ , it--”

“It was a cognition. I’m pretty sure, anyway. We’ve dealt with them before,” he said, and did his best to avoid looking at Futaba. The girl was finally becoming responsive again, not speaking to Ann, who was sitting next to her, but looking around and holding on to the cup in front of her as if it were the only thing grounding her to the world.

“Why are you so insistent we change his heart?” Morgana asked, ears flattened against his head. “This is more than a target to you, isn’t it?”

“He’s my _friend_ ,” he said, scowling at the cat. “And he could help us in Shido’s palace if we can convince him to join us again. You all agreed to changing his heart in the first place--”

“We _didn_ ’t,” Makoto snapped. “You just… decided. Pulled rank as the leader so we were left with no choice but to follow you or risk being the odd one out. Well, I’m done following you if it’s going to be like this.”

“H-Hey, hold on a second--” Ryuji started but she glared at him.

“Are you all just okay with him behaving like this? He gave us the illusion of choice with that _unanimous vote_ decision but it’s clear he’s willing to disregard it whenever it’s convenient. And I’m not going to follow someone like that.”

The café was silent and he was suddenly hyperaware of his heartbeat in his ears. He could see the impasse growing between him and the other Thieves and, distantly, he wondered if they’d still be seven members strong by the end.

Haru was the first to speak again. “I’m sorry, Akira, but I can’t do this. Not because of your behavior!” she said hurriedly, and Makoto shot her a look. “I just… I can’t agree on this target. Not _him_ , not after everything he’s done. I’m sorry.”

Unwilling to give away the fear clawing at his chest, he kept his expression neutral and nodded. “Anyone else?”

Nobody spoke.

“Makoto, Haru, thank you for your honesty. I’ll be sure to message you when we go back to Shido’s palace.”

The girl got up suddenly, smoothing down her skirt. “I appreciate it.”

“Haru, wait--!” Ann called.

Makoto wasn’t far behind her, although not nearly as composed. Then the door slammed behind her and Futaba flinched.

“Akira, what--”

“We’ll need access to our personas if we want to continue,” he said. “That means we need Akechi to see us as a threat.”

“ _Akira_.”

“I’m still playing dead so I can’t do anything, but as long as he views a few of us that way it should apply to all of us. As long as it’s more than one, anyway.”

“You… You really want to go back?” Futaba asked, her voice cracking.

“It was just a cognition,” he said stubbornly. “A scary one, yes, but once we have our personas we can--”

“That wasn’t just a cognition. I mean-- It was, but… that was a _body_ ,” she said, the words coming easier, although her voice still shook. “Like, that’s what bodies look like. There was nothing _distorted_ about it. And if that was his mom like you said, it means Akechi saw her and remembered it in that much detail. If he really is the one in the black mask, the one behind the shutdowns… I don’t know what kind of things we’ll see.”

He knew what it was she was afraid of, even if she wouldn’t vocalize it. Her mother. “We should try one more time,” he said eventually. “If… If it’s too much, or we can’t get it to work out, we’ll go back to the original plan. Deal?”

The others fell silent.

“...Man, I don’t like this,” Ryuji said at last. “But I guess we can give it one more try. I still want to punch his stupid Shadow in the face.”

Akira relaxed a little and allowed himself to give a small smile. “Then all we have to do now is figure out how to make Akechi see us as a threat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be 20k, you know. Hell, this wasn't even my original idea for the Big Bang, I wanted to do a piece detailing Goro's childhood (although this certainly covered some of it). But I found Soph's post and ran to my friend and went "HEY LOOK AT THIS COOL AU I WANNA WRITE IT WHEN THE EVENT IS OVER" and then it proceeded to consume my life and I couldn't focus on my piece anymore. So I changed to this idea two days before the first check-in. It was a time. And here we are, 43k words later.
> 
> (I know I don’t reply to comments but please don’t take it as me ignoring them or anything, they make me so happy and I appreciate them so much, I’m just filled with anxiety)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira activated the Nav and squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again they were right outside the station. The first thing he was aware of were the eyes on him, and he turned to find his friends staring at him--now in the outfits they were all too familiar with. The second was that there was no black and white edge obscuring his vision. He was still in his street clothes. 
> 
> He immediately had two hypotheses as to why he was the only one and he didn’t like either of them.

“Akechi-kun, ten minutes until you’re on!”

His eye twitched and the makeup artist _tsk_ ed, nudging his chin until he was looking straight ahead again.

“I’ll be right out,” he said sweetly, and resisted the urge to curl his hands into fists. He was the charming second coming of the Detective Prince in that moment and he didn’t get annoyed. He was too perfect for that.

The woman took a step back and observed her work. “I think you’re ready.”

_You think?_ he wanted to snap, but swallowed down the bile and gave her a pleasant smile. “Thank you so much.”

He took his position offstage and did his best to avoid looking at the audience. _Anxiety_ wasn’t an issue, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up his façade if he happened to make eye contact with someone. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he made sure no one was watching before he checked it. What greeted him wasn’t the list of names he expected, but rather a red and white top hat adorning his home screen. He nearly dropped the device and instead shoved it in his pocket with trembling hands.

“--our guest for today, the Detective Prince, Goro Akechi!”

His head snapped up and for a moment he found himself unsure of where he was. Then he realized people were clapping and someone was gently pushing him forward.

“Akechi-kun, is everything alright?” the host asked, her smile wavering slightly.

_Calm down before you make a fool of yourself_ , the voice in the back of his head said. _There will be time to deal with the Thieves later._

He forced himself to take a deep breath and put on the smile he’d practiced so often. “My apologies! I was thinking about a case, you see.”

“Oh, how exciting! Can you share any details with us before we move onto today’s topic of the Phantom Thieves and their leader?”

His stomach churned and the logo seemed stuck in the back of his mind, along with the message underneath.

_We’re not done yet_.

* * *

Akira activated the Nav and squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again they were right outside the station. The first thing he was aware of were the eyes on him, and he turned to find his friends staring at him--now in the outfits they were all too familiar with. The second was that there was no black and white edge obscuring his vision. He was still in his street clothes.

He immediately had two hypotheses as to why he was the only one and he didn’t like either of them.

“Joker--”

“We should get moving,” he said, cutting Ann off.

“If we’re at the station does that mean we have to sneak on again?” Ryuji whined.

“You have your bat, don’t you?” he asked, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. “Or are you afraid you can’t fight off any shadows we might run into?”

“ _Joker_ \--”

He _wasn’t_ Joker. He could barely feel Arsène in the back of mind, nor any of the other voices he was used to. His fists slowly uncurled and he took a deep breath. “...I’m sorry.”

“Hey, uh, it’s okay,” Ryuji said awkwardly. “I get it, you’re stressed. This is weird.”

“Train’s coming,” Futaba announced, and sure enough a moment later they could hear it. It pulled into the station just as it did before.

_“I have a schedule to keep, you know,”_ an all too familiar voice said, sounding bored. _“Get on or don’t, but make up your mind.”_

“You’re just letting us on?” Yusuke asked.

_“I already told you it’s been awhile since I’ve had any entertainment. I’m interested in seeing how far you make it before you either give up or die.”_

“Oh, so you’re talking to the rest of us now? What happened to ‘unauthorized passengers’?”

_“Do you even listen? I’m giving you permission to board. Don’t make me regret my choice already.”_

Morgana was the first to do so, surprising even Akira. “It’s just like any other palace,” he said. “Let’s take his Treasure and change his heart!”

The Shadow gave a sharp bark of laughter. _“I’d like to see you try.”_

Akira hesitated only a moment before jumping up, the rest of the Thieves following him. Not even a second later the train began to move.

“Where is it _going_?” Ann asked. “If he views the whole country as just a bunch of tracks there has to be a place in mind, right?”

“I have a feeling we’ll find out along the way. We should get moving.”

“Wait, Joker, you don’t have your--”

“It’ll be fine,” he said, shooting her one of Joker’s trademark grins. Even without a dagger strapped to his hip and a persona ready to be called upon he had a mask to uphold.

They found that the previous car was unlocked and it was all too easy to reach the one from before.

“His Shadow talks a lot about watching us struggle or whatever but he’s makin’ this pretty easy on us, don’t you think?”

_“Would you prefer I make it harder?”_ came a voice out of nowhere.

“Don’t _sneak up on me_ like that!” he yelled, whipping around and looking for the speaker.

Akira could practically _hear_ the smirk. He slid the door open and found that even knowing what was coming wasn’t enough to stop him from gagging at the smell.

The body was still hanging, although its eyes were open and hazy.

“That thing gives me the creeps,” Ryuji muttered.

“It’s a corpse,” Yusuke said flatly. “It's not meant to be pleasant.”

“ _Inari_.”

Ann covered her mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“--top… please…”

Futaba froze. “Guys…?”

“Please stop,” a small voice whimpered. “Please…”

They all looked to the body but it hadn’t moved and Akira took a tentative step forward.

“Joker, wait--”

“ _Please_ … leave me alone…”

He peered around the seat and his breath caught. A young boy met his eye before backing up as far as he could, hitting his head on the wall.

“G-Go away!” he demanded, his voice shaking. “I’m not leaving her! You can’t take her!”

“Goro…?”

“How do you know my--?”

“It’s okay, I’m a friend,” he said, hands raised in submission. “I’m here to help you.”

Goro just curled tighter in on himself. “That’s what they all say,” he mumbled. “And then they try to take me away from her!”

“Joker, what is it?”

He’d nearly forgotten about his friends. “Wait, don’t--” he started, but it was too late. Ann and Yusuke made their way over and Goro flinched at their masks.

“Is that--”

“--memory or a cognition?”

“He’s scared, give him some space.”

“Of course he’s scared, there’s a dead body hanging a few feet away!” Ryuji snapped, then yelped as Futaba stepped on his foot.

“Leave her alone!” Goro said, scrambling to his feet. He stood in front of the body, arms outstretched and tears welling up in his eyes. Akira realized he was barefoot and wearing a cape that seemed to have been made from an old shirt.

“ _Goro_ ,” said a soft voice.

“Oh what the _hell_ ,” Ryuji hissed, turning to face the body.

“ _I should’ve killed you… when I had the chance_.”

The boy’s expression crumpled and his arms dropped to his sides. Futaba had sunk to the ground and had her hands clamped over her ears and Akira met the eyes of the rest of his friends, nodding. Ryuji and Yusuke hefted their weapons and Ann stepped in front of the wailing girl protectively.

He lunged forward and grabbed the boy, rolling out of the way as Ryuji swung as hard as he could, connecting with the body with a sickening _crunch_.

“No!” Goro screamed. “Don’t hurt her!” He squirmed in Akira’s grip to no avail and weakly pounded his fists against him. “Let me go! Let go!”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, holding him tighter. “She’s not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t hurt her,” he repeated, sobbing into his shirt.

Akira risked a glance over his shoulder just in time to watch the body collapse in a heap, Ryuji wiping _something_ off his bat. It didn’t disappear like the shadows they were used to and instead a puddle began to grow around it, the smell only worsening.

Morgana and Ann were still with Futaba, trying to comfort the girl who was shaking. He slowly let go of the boy in his arms, who immediately rushed to the body and fell to his knees.

“Mama,” he mumbled.

“Hey, don’t get so close or you’ll--”

He whipped around, eyes blazing. “You hurt her!”

“Goro, wait--”

“I told you to stop but you _didn’t_!”

“She was going on about how she wanted you dead,” Ryuji grumbled.

He glared at the boy with such a ferocity even Akira took a step back and Ryuji fell to his knees without warning, grabbing at his throat. He coughed weakly, tears welling up behind his mask, but Akira couldn’t see anything physically wrong with him.

“Goro, listen to me,” he said sharply. “We didn’t want to hurt her but we _did_ want to protect you.”

“She was all I had,” he whispered.

“...She was already dead.”

His hands slowly clenched into fists but Akira could see that the anger had left him.

Ryuji gasped for breath, tremors wracking his body. “What… the fuck?” he demanded in a raspy voice.

Akira opened his mouth to say something but shut it again, frowning. He couldn’t stand the idea of just leaving the kid behind with the body that showed no signs of disappearing, even if they were just cognitions. “Come with us,” he said suddenly, and chose to ignore the looks he could feel the others giving him.

“With… you?”

“We’re… We’re trying to help you,” he said at last. “Maybe not _you_ , but…”

“I can’t,” he said, lip jutted out in a pout.

“Of course you can! Don’t worry about my friends, you don’t have to stay here, you can--”

“No, I _can’t_ ,” he insisted. “I’ve tried to leave but--”

“Joker--”

His hands shook and he found himself wishing desperately for a mask that wasn’t there to hide behind. “Goro, please--”

“ _Joker_ ,” Ann said, sharper, tearing him from his daze. “The door is locked.”

“What? But we defeated the cognition and saved him.” He needed to be Joker in that moment, no matter how much he wanted to protest that it wasn’t fair. Even if he didn’t look the part.

“The Shadow doesn’t want us to go on,” Ryuji said. “We knew it controlled everything. I’m surprised we even got through a few cars.”

“This.... This isn’t _right_. He said he was going to let us through.”

“There’s another way,” the cognition said suddenly, surprising them all.

Morgana gave him a wary look, tail lashing. “And how do you know?”

“I like looking out the window, even if I can’t leave.” He climbed up on one of the seats and pressed his hand against it, and even though the window was open it was as though a barrier stopped him from reaching through.

They all followed his finger to where a ladder led up to the roof of the car.

Futaba paled and took a step back. “C-Can’t we just try to pick the lock on the door? It worked before, didn’t it?”

Akira knew Goro’s Shadow had _let them_ through the first time, either impressed or mildly entertained at their attempts. The same trick was unlikely to work a second time, especially if they’d done something wrong.

“I mean… hopping along the cars of a moving train sounds like something a Phantom Thief would do, right?” Ryuji asked.

She chewed at her lip so intensely he was afraid it would split. “...Fine,” she said after a minute. “But I wanna go in the middle, so if I fall one of you has to catch me!”

“Deal. Skull, you’re the strongest, are you okay with going last?”

“What?!”

“Mona, I don’t think you’ll be able to reach the rungs like that. Can you hang on to Fox?”

“ _What?_ ”

“And that leaves Panther and I, and we’re fine on our own. Right?”

The girl sighed. “I guess. But I’m going first so you can’t look down my suit or anything!”

“Not like it’s anything we haven’t seen before,” Ryuji muttered. At the immediate glare she fixed him with, he hurriedly said, “H-Hey, I was just kidding!”

A minute later and they were all organized, and Ann squeezed through the window. Akira was suddenly very glad the tracks seemed to be straight and the buildings on either side weren’t close enough to knock them off.

She made it up without any troubles and Akira turned back to Goro, giving him one last look before he did the same, his sneakers providing little grip against the worn metal. He nearly slipped but a pink gloved hand caught him at the last second before Ann tugged him up.

“Let’s not make a habit of this, okay?”

“Agreed.”

Yusuke, Morgana, Futaba, and Ryuji weren’t far behind and they all just lay there on the roof for a second, catching their breath as the wind whipped through their hair.

Yusuke was the first to pull himself to his feet again and take a few unsteady steps.

“Yo, holy shit,” Ryuji whispered.

Akira forced himself upright and helped Futaba do the same, and nearly fell right back down at the sight that greeted them.

It was far in the distance, but there was no mistaking it: the train was headed for the Diet building.

* * *

He fumbled with his key and leaned against the door, his vision swimming a bit. He _hated_ the events Shido and his men held. _Hated_ that he was expected to show up and schmooze with adults who were celebrating the names that would show up in the news because of him. _Hated_ that he was expected to drink, even though he was eighteen and a student and practically a member of the police force, as far as they were concerned-- _or rather_ because _I’m a part of their twisted circle_ , he thought bitterly. _Hated_ that he couldn’t just sleep off the headache he already felt building up, and instead had to go through the footage he’d taken.

He took a few unsteady steps across the apartment and all but fell back in the chair by the window, laptop already sitting nearby. The photos started downloading as soon as he opened it and he set it aside, stumbling to the bathroom. If he was going to be awake for a while, he at least needed some aspirin.

“Almost over,” he muttered, pressing his hands against his forehead. “It’s almost over.”

The computer showed that the files had finished downloading and a video clip began to play as he clicked on the first one. He winced at the volume and lowered it.

_“To another job well done!”_ one of the men cheered, raising his glass.

_“To the end of the Phantom Thieves!”_ someone added.

The angle shook as Goro took a sip of his own wine and pretended to be doing something on his phone but righted itself quickly, Shido back in the frame.

_“To the end of an era,”_ he said, nodding in Goro’s direction, and he hurriedly stuffed his phone in his pocket. _“And it’s all thanks to our little detective.”_

It went on for awhile, the men congratulating him and urging him to drink, if the muffled voices were anything to go by. His stomach clenched as he listened to the clip and he was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten when he got back, as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it down.

There were a few more clips of that nature, as well as blurry pictures he’d taken of Shido with men who’d no doubt wind up victims themselves if they kept going at the rate they were. They were fools to believe Shido would keep them around just because they were useful at the moment. Goro knew even he, charming Detective Prince, esteemed hitman, and only one capable of accessing the metaverse, was expendable and it was only a matter of time before Shido had him killed. It just meant he had to finish his work first.

He began the process of maneuvering through folders titled things like _College Applications_ and _Acceptance Letters_ , until he reached a password-protected one marked _University of Tokyo_. He fumbled the password and squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, trying to get himself to focus. He managed the second time and was met with pictures of actresses in bikinis and topless photos of models. The entire thing was a smokescreen in case someone actually managed to get so far into his hard drive. What he was after was another password-protected folder, this one unlabeled. It held everything he’d collected so far, every phone conversation recorded from the year before when he’d realized what he needed to do, screenshots of every message he got from the man with the names of the people who wound up in the news the next day, and photos and videos from events like the one that night, where not even Shido would be able to talk his way out of things.

He dropped his newest information in and made sure it saved before closing out of it all, taking a deep breath. Even with the aspirin from earlier his head pounded and he knew he was going to wake up with a hangover.

School was going to be a piece of work.

* * *

“Joker, can we take a break?” came a small voice, and he turned around to find Morgana lagging behind the rest of the group.

“We should keep moving,” he said, walking faster. “We haven’t found any safe rooms yet and we don’t know if there are any shadows on board. We shouldn’t let our guard down until we know we’re safe.”

“There aren’t any shadows that I can sense,” Futaba said quietly. “There’s isn’t _anything_. No weaknesses in his cognition, no safe rooms, no _nothing_. We could just pick a room at random and it’d be as safe as any.”

He didn’t want to stop. Not when he didn’t know what the cars would hold, what horrors they’d face if the previous were anything to go by. The last had been anything but easy to watch, despite being another memory rather than a cognition they had to reason with or fight. Goro had been a few years older and already it was clear his childlike wonder had been replaced with bitterness. The memory in particular was of an adult--a foster parent, by the looks of it--dragging him down the hall by the hair. They’d told him he was nothing but the son of a whore and how he’d never amount to more than that before locking him in a coat closet. It hadn’t ended there either, instead lingering on Goro screaming and pounding against the door, begging to be let out, for anyone to save him. Akira had known it was just a memory on repeat but it took everything in him not to rush forward and try to help the boy.

“I’m tired too,” Ann said, and he knew he was outnumbered. “What if we take a break in whatever the next car is?”

“That’s fine,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone even. He knew it was hard on them, especially Futaba. He didn’t blame them for wanting to take a break. He just… wanted to get this over with. He didn’t like it either, poking around Goro’s heart without his knowledge. It wasn’t that it was difficult to watch--although it was--but rather that it felt like he was betraying him. Goro had already proved he’d open up on his own time when they went to the bathhouse together and he’d told him about his mother. It felt wrong to learn his secrets without his knowing.

Ryuji slid open the next door, forcing his way ahead, and gave a muttered “About damn time,” as they all filed in. The car was filled with boxes that were overflowing with what looked like scraps of paper but there was no imminent danger. He immediately sat on the rim of one of the boxes and let his head loll back.

Everyone else took seats nearby, with Yusuke handing out supplies and Ann healing everyone up. Akira wasn’t quite as eager to mess with the unknown and chose to stand in the corner, taking the soda the boy handed him. He sipped at it more out of a need to do something with his hands and cast a glance at the others just in time to watch Ann summon Hecate and for the bruises around Ryuji’s neck to vanish. The boy looked over at him and he dropped his gaze, focusing on the box to his left. He found that he didn’t have to fake his interest as he realized there were names written on the papers. Names he _recognized_. He grabbed a fistful of slips and tried to steady his shaking hands.

_Keiji Nakagawa. Yūko Kawasaki. Ryutaro Hamada. Mitsuko Kondo_.

While he didn’t know all of them, and certainly not personally, he’d heard some of their names on the news the week before while he’d had nothing but the TV to entertain him. They’d suffered mental shutdowns and were in critical condition.

“Joker?”

His head snapped up and he realized everyone was looking at him.

“Do you know something?” Yusuke asked, one eyebrow raised.

He knew keeping his suspicions to himself would only make things worse, but that didn’t mean he wanted to share them.

“I think,” he said carefully, “these are all people who’ve suffered mental shutdowns.”

Morgana bristled. “All of them?”

He kept his gaze down as they all looked at the boxes that filled most of the car, some of them stacked three or four high and all overflowing with papers. He didn’t want to believe it but the evidence was right there…

“Is everyone healed up? Are we ready to move on?”

“Joker, maybe we should pull back for today,” Futaba said, her voice strained.

“We’ve barely made it through three cars and we have no idea how many are waiting for us. If these really are the significant parts of his life up until now don’t you think we should at least get a little closer to the present?”

“How are you so _calm_ about all this?” Ann demanded. “I can barely stop my hands from shaking and you’re just treating this like it’s another palace, like we don’t know Akechi. I thought we’d have to worry about you but you’re barely even reacting.”

_Barely even reacting?_ he thought sourly. _I’m urging us to get through this as quickly as possible because I don’t want to be here! But you’re all so focused on yourselves you can’t even see when I’m acting different, huh?_

“Joker?”

“We’ll keep going,” he said after a moment, refusing to look at them.

“What?”

“Dude, we’re tired and--”

“Did you all forget about the body in the previous car?” he snapped. “The one that _didn’t_ disappear once we were done with it? If we leave and come back there’s a pretty good chance it’s going to still be there and I don’t particularly want to see that again!”

“There’s no need to get so upset,” Ann said quietly.

He whipped around to face her, eyes blazing and hands curled into fists. “First you said it was weird that I wasn’t reacting at all. Then I _do_ react and you say there’s no need to get so upset. Which one is it? Do you want me to be the calm and collected leader or do you want me to actually tell you how I’m feeling?”

“ _Joker_ ,” Morgana said sharply.

He _wasn’t_ Joker. He didn’t have his personas. He didn’t have _anything_. It wasn’t fair that they expected him to lead them when he was barely keeping it together himself. He loved his friends but he was quickly approaching his limit and they weren’t helping.

“All in favor of leaving?” Ann asked.

Every other hand went up and he grit his teeth. “I thought the decision had to be unanimous.”

“I think you proved otherwise. Skull, get the Nav ready.”

“We still have to clear Shido’s palace, you know. We have to get through this quickly if we’re going to get Akechi on our side!”

“This is for your own good,” she said quietly.

* * *

Goro wasn’t an idiot, he knew not to read the comments. He’d learned his lesson after some _forward_ fans had told him exactly what they wanted to do to him on one of his blog posts rating a nearby café. But it was oh so tempting now, when he was spiraling and desperately needed a distraction.

Public opinion _was_ in his favor… Maybe it would be the confidence boost he needed. Or at least remind him that he’d hopefully have people on his side when he brought his case forward.

Against his better judgement, he grabbed his phone and opened his blog, clicking on the first post, a picture of a parfait he’d sampled and reviewed. Just looking at the image had him shuddering as he remembered the sickly sweet syrups and whipped cream.

The taste turned sour as he caught sight of the comments.

> **[braveheart]** get the rest of the thieves, akechi-kun!!!
> 
> **[SPACE☆★]** make an example of them like their leader!
> 
> **[420gowon]** the only way to fix this problem is to take out rest of them
> 
> **[lilacshrike]** don’t let this get you down, go after the others!

He swallowed down bile as he remembered what Shido had said as soon as he’d reported Kurusu’s death. _All that’s left is to deal with the remnants._ The knowledge that neither of them would be around long enough to actually carry out his plans was little comfort when he’d already killed once. His hands shook as he remembered the weight of the gun and he frantically scrolled through the comments. He needed a distraction. Anything.

He quickly regretted his decision as the comments turned more aggressive. It seemed not _everyone_ was on his side.

> **[Saphira]** forget a change of heart, the thieves are gonna kill you like they did okumura
> 
> **[StormyGaddon]** we know what school you go to, finding your apartment will be easy and then it’ll be over for you. your body will be on the front page tomorrow.
> 
> **[Parallax]** @StormyGaddon sending death threats is illegal, just letting you know :)))
> 
> **[Zeiskyte]** @Parallax free speech exists, just letting you know :)))
> 
> **[MsChievious]** kill urself lol

His fingers shook as he typed up a new post, selecting a photo from his camera roll, him smiling determinedly at the camera from some interview he barely remembered.

> _I see everyone is getting rather heated about the issue with the Phantom Thieves! Just a reminder that it’s unwise to fight in the comment section, seeing as I *am* a police detective. I’m doing everything I can to catch the rest of the Thieves and I’ll keep working hard as long as you support me!_

He hit send and laughed without humor. _Kill myself?_ he thought. _Oh no, not yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For the record, those boxes aren't all Goro's victims, they're people tied up in the Conspiracy one way or another. The Thieves just don't know that. In this house we respect our boy with his body count of nine.)
> 
> Shoutout to my friends who let me use their usernames for that last segment! You've probably forgotten about it by now since it was a few months ago, but you all agreed to threaten Goro!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharp laughter rang out and the girl flinched. _“It looks like your friends are starting to realize what that mask of yours hides, Kurusu.”_
> 
> “I feel like…“ Ann looked like she was choosing her words carefully. “Like you care more about him than you do us,” she said. 
> 
> He grit his teeth and found himself wishing again for a mask that wasn’t there to hide behind. _So the truth comes out at last_.

Akira drummed his fingers on the table and tried to stop his thoughts from racing as he waited for everyone else to arrive. The shop felt so _empty_ without them. Especially when they got to go to school and he was left playing dead.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long before Ann and Ryuji showed up, Yusuke not far behind them. “We’re just waiting on Futaba and Mona, right?” the blond asked.

He didn’t have to answer as their last two party members walked in, Morgana being carried by the girl.

She slid into a booth and curled her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to go,” she mumbled.

His head snapped up. He needed her, needed _all_ of them.

Well, he’d already anticipated them trying to back out as well and had spent most of the night before going over scenarios and thinking of ways to convince them if they started having doubts.

“I know it’s rough,” he said quietly. “And I haven’t been a very good leader lately, and for that I’m sorry. I spent a lot of time thinking last night and I’m going to listen to you guys more. But I need my navigator, alright?”

“You _don’t_ ,” she insisted. “There aren’t even any shadows and it’s not like Shido’s palace with its winding hallways and stupid puzzles. You guys will be fine without me. I just… can’t do this.”

He got up and sat next to her, close but not touching. “Can you give it one more try? For me? And if today goes poorly I won’t push you, I promise.”

She picked up her head and frowned.

“And it’s not like you’re alone,” he added quickly. “We’re all there for you. For each other.”

She gave him a wary look. “...Fine,” she said at last.

He hoped the relief didn’t show on his face as he got the Nav ready. He barely waited for the distortion to settle before he was already on his feet and starting towards the door.

“Joker, wait--!”

He wanted to get to the station before any of them changed their minds. He was in no mood to wait for them after their last venture had been cut short.

“ _Joker!_ ”

He didn’t stop until he reached the platform. He paced back and forth, chewing at his lip as the others ran up.

“What was… that for?” Ryuji demanded between gasps.

“Sorry.”

“What happened to listening to us more? You just ran off!”

 _I apologized, didn’t I?_ he wanted to snap. “Our ride’s here,” he said instead as the tracks began to rattle.

“Joker, would you just _listen to us?_ ”

He resisted the urge to curl his hands into fists. “I’m listening, I promise, but the train is here and we need to get on.”

“I knew this was a mistake,” Futaba mumbled.

Sharp laughter rang out and the girl flinched. _“It looks like your friends are starting to realize what that mask of yours hides, Kurusu.”_

“I’m sorry. I’m trying--I really am.”

“I feel like…“ Ann looked like she was choosing her words carefully. “Like you care more about him than you do us,” she said.

He grit his teeth and found himself wishing again for a mask that wasn’t there to hide behind. _So the truth comes out at last._

“We can talk about it later,” he said, trying to keep his tone even. “But we need to get on the train _before it leaves_.”

As if to prove his point, the whistle blew in the distance and the cars inched forward. He hopped up and turned to them, offering his hand. They all just stared at him and he was suddenly afraid he’d grossly miscalculated their _unwavering loyalty_. Then Yusuke took his hand, although he avoided looking at him as he passed. The others did the same and he allowed himself to relax a bit as they all filed on.

He knew the palace was partly responsible for the tension that hung so thick in the air he was practically choking on it, but it wasn’t the only reason. It was no secret that his friends mainly valued him because of what he did for them. Doing things for people was who he was. But he was getting sick of only being people’s shoulder to cry on. He had a life of his own, _problems_ of his own, but he was expected to push them all down in favor of his friends’. Goro was the first person he’d found who was content to just talk with him and listen to what he had to say, no strings attached, no underlying conditions or exchange of services.

Yes, he cared more about Goro than he did the others. Even after what had transpired in the interrogation room, which he knew his friends would never understand. But it didn’t mean he didn’t care about them at all. He’d been through so much with them! But if they would so easily abandon him when he needed them the most….

“We should get going,” was all he said, his pace brisk and tone clipped.

The previous cars were unlocked, not that he expected any different, and he tried not to look at the cognitive Goro in the one with the slowly decaying body of his mother, just as he’d feared. The kid kept his head down as well, although he stood protectively in front of her.

They finally reached the car from before with all the boxes in it and he hesitated in front of the door.

Morgana looked up at him, tail flicking nervously. “We don’t… We don’t have to do this,” he said quietly.

“I made my decision,” he muttered, sliding the door open.

It was like all of the other cars in that it started out empty. Then there was the sound of a camera whirring to life. When the image came into focus it was of Mementos and even though he knew they were already in the metaverse, he felt uneasy as he took in the red and black walls and didn’t have the familiar weight of a mask on his face.

Then a middle school aged Goro ran past, if his gakuran was any indicator. He quickly hit a dead end and tears streamed down his cheeks as he turned around, looking terrified and confused.

A Mandrake and two Pyro Jack’s approached and the boy’s hands shook. Akira had a feeling it was his first time in the metaverse and he resisted the urge to reach for a dagger that wasn’t there, a name on his lips that wouldn’t respond. He remembered his own time of course, how he’d stumbled upon it with Ryuji. He couldn’t even imagine finding it on his own, and so _young_.

“I don’t want to die,” the boy whimpered. “I… I don’t want to die!” Without warning he fell to his knees, clutching his head. A voice filled the space and Akira’s breath caught.

_“Ah, the prodigal son…”_

He cried out as the voice continued, confident, and a little bitter.

_“Justice, truth. You seek them, but do they really exist in such a world? There are only the trampled, who are too tired for such things, and the evil, who lord above them.”_

He clawed at the mask now sitting on his face, pulling at it to no avail.

_“If you still wish to fight, then join with me. For the sake of the weary. The forgotten.”_

“I will,” Goro said, his voice wavering. “I _will_.”

_“Very well. I am thou, thou art I… with your own hands, grasp the power that has been your birthright all along.”_

With a scream, he tore the mask off at last. Blood dripped down his face like tears and he looked down at himself, seeming to notice the change in outfit. He startled and Akira almost laughed. He was still just a child.

“Come to me,” he whispered, settling the mask back on his face. “Robin Hood.”

The memory froze and subsequently faded, and Mementos disappeared to reveal the empty car from before. Akira swallowed thickly. “We should keep moving. He didn’t look much younger there, which means we’re getting closer to the present.”

“He awoke to Robin Hood because of his sense of justice,” Yusuke said quietly, more to himself.

He tried the door but found that it was locked, not that he was very surprised.

_“Why so eager to move on, Kurusu?”_

“Let us through. We watched the memory like you wanted.”

_“Do you really think that’s what I care about here?”_

He sighed and took a step back, slamming the door with his shoulder once more for good measure. It clicked open and he fell, landing on his face and finding himself much closer to the ground than he would’ve liked.

The Shadow laughed sharply. _“How graceful.”_

“He did that on purpose--!”

Akira brushed himself off and raised a hand to stop Ryuji. “Not even that is enough to pull you out of your booth, huh?”

Silence filled the air. _“...Surely you don’t think a little taunt will get to me?”_ he said at last.

He knew better. He knew _Goro_ , knew that the best way to get him to do anything was to make it into a competition. His Shadow was no exception.

He just chuckled to himself and slid open the next door, waiting for the memory to start.

It didn’t take long as everyone filed in and the image rippled, an office coming into focus. Goro stood in the center, reaching across the desk and shaking hands with someone.

Shido.

He looked so _young_ , barely any older than the previous car, and Akira realized in horror he must’ve awakened to his persona and immediately offered his abilities.

The scene changed again, shifting like they were entering the metaverse, and when it settled Goro was in his princely outfit and standing over a shadow that was slowly disappearing, his chest heaving and hands shaking as he held a very real looking gun.

Akira had a sinking suspicion it was his first mental shutdown.

Instead of the scene fading like they were used to, Goro turned to them, the mask casting shadows on his face that made him look more like a monster than the body at his feet.

“It’s a cognition--!” Futaba cried, and not a moment too soon. Goro opened fire on them and distantly Akira wondered what would happen if they got shot in the metaverse, if the bullet would remain or not. He didn’t particularly want to find out.

He ducked behind the seats--he hadn’t even noticed Mementos had faded away to reveal the car again--and met the gazes of the others. It wasn’t like the cognition of his mother. He knew they wouldn’t be able to attack the boy, not when he looked to be younger than them and couldn’t even keep his hands steady as he fired the gun, if the erratic shots were any indicator. He also didn’t want to kill him, unsure what it would do to his Shadow and self in the real world, if anything. There shouldn’t even have been a cognition of _himself_ in the first place. It meant Goro was so disconnected, viewed parts of himself as so separate that they manifested as individuals.

The shots suddenly stopped and the cognition cursed, and Akira risked a glance over the seat to realize he was out of ammunition and digging in his pocket, probably for another clip. He wasn’t going to give him a chance.

“Skull, grab him!” he yelled, and the boy gave him an incredulous look before doing as he was told.

He wrenched the gun from the boy’s hands, all too easy when he was fighting back tears, and slid it towards the rest of them. Then he grabbed the cognition and did his best to restrain him, although the boy put up a good fight.

Recognition seemed to dawn in his eyes and the anger in his expression was quickly replaced with fear. “You… Your eyes… You’re not a shadow! I don’t want to kill you!” he cried.

Akira felt his heart break at his tone. Either the Goro he knew had changed so drastically from the child trying to uphold justice he once was, or he was incredibly good at masking it. He wasn’t sure which one hurt more.

The cognition tore from Ryuji’s grip and had a knife before either of them realized what was going on.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he repeated. “But… I will if I have to!”

Ryuji hefted his bat and Akira launched himself over the seat before he even knew what he was doing. He wanted to throw himself between his friend and the child--he couldn’t think of him as anything else--but resisted the urge and instead held Ryuji back.

“Goro, look at me,” he said, hands raised in submission. He could feel the looks his friends were giving him but kept going. “We’re on your side, okay? We don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re lying, you’re… you’re shadows or something!”

“We’re persona users just like you.”

His breath caught. “You can use them too?”

“We use the metaverse to help people instead of hurting them like this.”

“Joker, it’s just a cognition--” Morgana started.

He knew that, but he still wanted to believe that he could’ve helped Goro if they’d only met earlier.

“You don’t have to hurt people,” he said, taking the knife from him. He let go of it easily.

“I don’t… I didn’t think it was going to be like this,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want it to be like this! I don’t like hurting people!” His shoulders slumped and he refused to look at them. “I don’t like hurting people.”

“Joker, we should get moving--”

Why were they only willing to to forge ahead on their own terms? Did they feel nothing for the boy crying in front of them, even if he was just a cognition? He was still Goro, wasn’t he? It meant he’d felt that way at one point.

He was in no mood to fight them on their views and just sighed, ready to move on.

He didn’t get a chance as the speaker crackled to life.

 _“Do you have any idea what it does to a teenager to commit murder?”_ the Shadow snapped, sounding much less composed than before. _“What it’s like to go to school the next day and find out some politician had a stroke, and know you caused it?”_

Futaba seemed to shrink into herself, ducking her head down.

 _“It was easy to act surprised the first few times--hell, I wasn’t even acting. But the more hits were ordered and the more bodies piled up, it got harder and harder to put on that_ stupid _look people expected of me because I was just a child.”_

“Joker--”

He didn’t like it either. “Goro, listen to us--”

 _“Don’t use that pitying tone with me, Kurusu!”_ he snarled. _“I don’t need that from you of all people!”_

It cut off without warning and the silence that hung in the air was nearly suffocating. He cleared his throat and avoided looking at the cognition that was still cowering. “We should keep going.”

For once, nobody protested.

* * *

Goro dropped his briefcase on the table and shed his blazer, throwing it somewhere in the corner. His stomach was still in knots, as it usually was after a meeting with Shido, and he felt as though he were choking. He practically clawed the awful striped tie off and made his way to the bathroom, looking for something to deal with the nausea. He could still feel the man’s presence as though it was worn into him. He nearly gagged as he remembered what Shido had said earlier.

_Your hair looks good like that, I don’t know why you’re so insistent on wanting to cut it. Everyone loves it, too, and it helps with your image._

His hands curled into fists and he skimmed over the shelves, knocking over bottles of painkillers and prescriptions he’d long since stopped taking, unable to find what he was looking for.

Finally he closed around the cool metal of the scissors.

He held them close and hesitated as he stared at his reflection, eyes wide and face blotchy as the makeup of the day had long since worn off. He barely recognized himself but he still saw _her_.

He grabbed a chunk of hair and cut it, nervous laughter bubbling up as it fell to the floor. For so long everything in his life had been dictated by those around him, whether his mother, or foster families that seemed to be looking for a reason to punish him, or Shido and his insistence on the Detective Prince being the ditzy, harmless sort. He could barely _breathe_ without someone telling him he was doing it wrong. But as he stared at the mirror and hardly recognized the boy staring back… It felt _good_.

Then the realization of what he’d done set in and bile rose in his throat. Shido was going to _kill him_. There was no taking back what he’d just done.

 _Well_ , said the voice in the back of his head, _if what’s done is done then why stop there?_

His grip on the tool tightened, hands no longer shaking. He was already going to face Shido’s wrath. Really, what was the point? If he was already damned, he was at least going to make things as difficult to salvage as possible.

* * *

Akira slid the door open and held his breath, expecting the smell of blood as the familiar sound of the camera started up. It seemed to be a more and more prevalent thing as they made their way through more cars and got closer to the present.

Instead, the image came into focus and he had to shield his eyes from the bright lights that reflected off the white tiles, and he gagged as the smell of antiseptic nearly overpowered him. The air was oppressive and his first thought was that something had gone wrong and they’d wound up deeper in the metaverse. It felt more like the depths of Mementos, as though there was something on top of them just waiting to crumble.

Futaba shrieked as people in lab coats walked by and he recognized one of them as Wakaba. “I don’t want to be here,” she whimpered.

Akira didn’t think it was the moment of her death. Her eyes looked normal so he was pretty sure she wasn’t a shadow. He wasn’t even sure if they were in the metaverse.

A young Goro trailed behind the scientists, who were all whispering amongst themselves and messing with complicated looking machines that were hooked up to a chair in the center of the room. He kept looking around nervously between the machines and the people around him.

Akira recognized his expression as one of wanting to speak up but not daring to. It was one he’d seen the boy wear before when he had to keep up his act as the Detective Prince and bite down the bile, and also one he was familiar with after a year of keeping his head down. Akira’s other realization was just how _young_ the boy looked, not any older than the previous memory. He didn’t like the look of the chair either. While he didn’t know what Wakaba was working on outside of _cognitive psience_ , he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

“Isshiki-sensei--” Goro said at last, but the woman didn’t even look at him. She barely seemed to notice he was there, too wrapped up in her notes and talking to the others.

Yusuke averted his gaze. “We shouldn’t be seeing this.”

 _We shouldn’t be seeing any of it_ , he thought bitterly. _This is where you draw the line?_

One of the men guided Goro forward and gently pushed him into the chair. The boy’s pleasant smile was replaced with a look of confusion and fear as belts were fastened around his arms and legs, and a helmet was lowered onto his head.

“Isshiki-sensei,” he tried again, firmer. “Shido-san said I was going to be helping with research but he didn’t explain what I’d be doing.”

The woman just looked away.

“This… This isn’t right,” Futaba mumbled. “This isn’t what she was working on. She said it was cognitive psience!”

Akira was silent as the memory continued and Goro kept asking what was going on. His tone grew higher and more desperate as they began fiddling with a control board and Ann stared at the floor, her hands curled into fists.

Out of nowhere Goro’s body seized and his pleas became strangled.

“Increase the voltage,” Wakaba said, not even looking up from her clipboard.

Futaba fell to the ground, her whole body shaking. “This is _wrong_ ,” she repeated.

Even Akira dropped his gaze as the scientists did as they were told and took notes, murmuring things about ‘erratic heart rate’ and ‘dilated pupils’. He resisted the urge to deck the nearest one, knowing it wouldn’t do anything, and instead just dug his nails into his palms and tried to keep his breathing steady as he waited for it to be over.

“Increase the voltage,” she repeated, and he grit his teeth so hard he was afraid something was going to crack as Goro’s cries grew louder and more frantic.

 _He’s_ fifteen, _what could you possibly be researching that requires electric shock torture? He’s Futaba’s age! Only… a year younger than me,_ he realized in horror. The year before he was trying out for a small part in the school play and saving up for the newest book in his favorite series, already planning with friends to camp out in front of the shop to get it as soon as it opened.

The electricity cut off just as suddenly and he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. The others weren’t faring much better, with Yusuke and even Ryuji looking away. Morgana was in Futaba’s lap, who hadn’t moved since her legs gave out.

Goro’s head lolled forward as far as it could while he was still strapped in, and his eyes were unfocused and hazy. If Akira didn’t already know the outcome he’d have thought for sure that the boy wasn’t going to survive.

Without warning he vomited all over himself, coughing and choking, his body still shaking. A scientist produced a syringe out of nowhere and recognition flashed weakly in his eyes and he pulled against the restraints. Hands curled in his hair and his head was forced to the side, and Akira felt his own stomach churn. It wasn’t so different from what happened in the interrogation room.

Goro screamed as the needle was inserted but he at least had the sense not to move until they were done. Wakaba studied the screens for a moment, the readings all over the place, as far as Akira could tell. “Give him another,” she said after a moment.

“That’s enough,” Akira said, fighting the urge to flinch. “We get it, Goro.”

 _“Don’t look away now, little thieves,”_ he said sweetly. _“You stowed away on board and made all of those bold declarations about how you were going to steal my Treasure and change my heart. The least you could do is watch until the end.”_

“If we’re not careful with the dosage it might end up killing him--”

“Either he dies or he awakens to a persona,” Wakaba said, her tone clipped. “Those are the only two options.”

Akira’s stomach churned. Goro already _had_ a persona, if the previous memory was anything to go by. Did he have a second? Was Goro a wildcard like himself?

“Stop,” Futaba whispered. “Stop, _please_ , I don’t want to see this--”

 _“You all made the choice to come aboard,”_ the Shadow snapped, his tone harsher than it had been a moment ago. _“You think I asked for this? For any of this? For the abuse, the poverty, the shame--!”_

It cut off just as suddenly and Ann buried her face in her hands. “We shouldn’t be here.”

Akira was inclined to agree. The memory was still playing, Goro convulsing in the chair. He walked through it, the image rippling, and tried the door. It was locked, not that he expected anything different. There were no windows like the previous cars, and the door behind them was locked as well, if Ryuji’s pulling on it was any indicator. They had no choice but to watch the memory until the end.

He had a feeling he was going to be hearing Goro’s screams long after they left the palace.

* * *

Goro knew it was probably a mistake as soon as he stepped inside. The dim lights and loud music did nothing for his already persistent headache, and that didn’t even touch on the fact that he hadn’t stopped by in a few weeks and Muhen was almost certainly going to ask a million questions. He appreciated that the man seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, rather than some of his fans who just wanted to get closer to him, but he was in no mood to discuss what he’d been up to lately.

“Akechi-kun!”

He froze where he was and had to stop his hands from curling into fists at his side. “Muhen-san,” he said warmly, putting on a carefully practiced smile.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair like that,” the man said, leaning against the counter. “Going for a new look?”

He went still as he remembered all too clearly Shido’s reaction upon seeing his hair; the yelling, the threats, the demanding he let someone fix it. Goro had almost told him no, the euphoria of finally being in control still in the front of his mind, but he’d just bit back the retort and let the man do what he wanted. The punishment for disobeying was worse than that of failure.

“Something like that,” he said at last. “What’s the special tonight?”

“Power Fizz.”

“I’ll take one.” Anything to keep his hands busy.

He started on the drink and Goro took a seat at the bar, casting glances over his shoulder. It felt like it had been an eternity since he’d last been to the Jazz Jin, even if it had only been a few weeks. The last time had been with--

“Where’s that other boy? The one you were bringing around for a while.”

Bile churned in his stomach and he felt his act slip for a moment, a frown creasing his features before he could stop it. “Ah, he…”

Muhen seemed to notice he’d touched on something that wasn’t meant to be talked about. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I shouldn’t have--”

“You’re fine,” he said sweetly, and hoped his smile didn’t look half as fake as it felt. “If you don’t mind I’m going to take my seat and--”

“No, no, of course.”

Goro grabbed his drink and chose a table in the back, away from everyone else. It seemed the singer was there and he listened to her crooning into the mic. He’d never actually paid attention to her songs before, too focused on his cases at the time and whatever tasks Shido had asked of him to truly appreciate them. He almost laughed at how pathetic it was, that his one place free from the man was still tainted by memories of him.

He immediately regretted his decision as he listened to the lyrics and he took a sip of his drink and forced himself to swallow, the sweet flavor almost overwhelming with how bitter his mouth tasted.

_Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him._

The song ended after what felt like an eternity and he was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that Kurusu _wasn’t_ sitting next to him, and that he would never be again. There was little warning before he felt it and he all but fell off the chair, pushing past people and rushing to the bathroom, barely making it to the first stall before his stomach voided itself of what little of the drink he’d choked down.

He sank to the tile, too exhausted to care about how dirty the floor probably was. His head was pounding and the bright lights of the bathroom only made things worse, and he closed his eyes for a moment, content to just sit there.

Finally he dragged himself to his feet and rinsed his mouth, the taste of vomit too much to ignore, and froze at his reflection.

He looked like shit.

He looked like a _corpse_ , skin pale and bags under his eyes pronounced. No wonder Muhen had barely recognized him.

 _No, not a corpse_ , said the voice in the back of his head. _That would require a bullet wound_.

He fumbled in his coat pocket for a tube of concealer and nearly dropped it with how badly his hands were shaking. Appearances had to be kept up, regardless of the circumstances.

Satisfied he at least looked _alive_ again, he turned to leave the bathroom and nearly bumped into Muhen.

“You okay? I saw you run off in a rush--”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. “Just wasn’t feeling very well.”

“I hope it wasn’t the drink--”

“No, it was fine as usual. I do think I’ll be leaving early though.”

“Do you want someone to help you to the station? Or you could stay here to make sure you’re okay--”

“Muhen-san,” he said, a bit harsher than he’d intended.

The man seemed to take the hint. “Get home safe.”

 _The train suddenly crashing would be a mercy_ , he thought bitterly.

* * *

Akira was about to open the next door when something latched onto his arm and he looked down to find Futaba clinging to him.

“Akira, I want to go home,” she said, her legs shaking as though they’d barely support her. “You… You said if today went poorly you wouldn’t push, a-and I think it’s gone pretty poorly.”

He _had_ said that. He was also in no mood to stop at the moment. They were getting closer to the present, sure, but they had no idea how many more cars awaited them and they were quickly running out of time. They still needed to make their way through Shido’s palace after Goro’s, and at their current pace they wouldn’t even get a few days respite before they had to dive back into it.

“We should keep going,” he said, wrenching out of her grip.

“Joker--”

“I’m not doing this again,” he snapped. “If you really want to leave that badly then go without me, but I’m not stopping until we get farther into things.”

“ _Akira!_ ”

He was only a few seconds away from saying something he knew he’d regret when Ann put a hand on his shoulder and he resisted the urge to pull away. “Listen, we’re all a little frazzled after that last car. Nobody is _leaving anyone alone here_. We’re all just going to take a break and calm down and talk things over, okay? I understand Joker’s insistence on making progress--”

If looks could kill, she would’ve dropped dead at the glare Futaba gave her.

“--But I also see where Oracle’s coming from and why pulling back for the day might be worth it.”

“I’m with Oracle, man,” Ryuji said. “We’ve seen too much shit. I just wanna go home and… stare at the wall or something. I’m done.”

“Joker?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. “Do you agree? It has to be unanimous, after all.”

The venom he’d been swallowing down for so long finally bubbled over. “It doesn’t have to be unanimous,” he hissed. “I think we all know that was a lie at this point.”

“Joker, wait--!”

He forced the door open and made his way into the next car, taking the slightest bit of pleasure in the way it slammed behind him.

The others were right behind him and he tried to drown them out as they yelled at him. He knew from the moment Makoto and Haru left that the palace would end with him against the rest of them. He was just amazed it had taken so long.

He was saved from having to listen to them as the telltale whir of a camera started and the room slowly changed.

Ryuji tried the door they’d come through but it had already locked and he cursed under his breath.

Finally the distortion settled and Akira’s blood ran cold as they were in Mementos again. He had a terrible feeling about what they were about to see.

“No,” Futaba mumbled, as if in a daze “No, no, _no_ \--”

By the time he noticed her his suspicions were already confirmed: Wakaba. Or rather, her Shadow, if the bright yellow eyes were any indicator.

Goro wasn’t far behind her, wearing an outfit he didn’t recognize; a muted grey and blue thing with belts, and a jagged black mask that looked more like a helmet and obscured most of his face. Akira felt sick to his stomach as the pieces fell into place.

“I see that new power is useful,” Wakaba’s Shadow said, sounding almost bored.

Goro’s hands shook and he grabbed for the jagged sword on his hip to steady them, far different from the saber Akira was used to after Sae’s palace.

She watched with little interest. “I know why you’re here. I knew it was only a matter of time. Show me what you’re capable of, Akechi-kun. Prove to me it wasn’t all in vain.”

Ann said something under her breath--no doubt something about how what they were seeing was _wrong_ \--and turned to the door that was no longer there. Akira didn’t want to watch either, but he couldn’t deny that a part of him was curious about the woman he’d only heard others sing the praises of. He’d wondered what she was like if she had a Shadow in the first place, but the truth was something entirely unexpected. In the lab in the previous memory she’d been flat and clinical, as if trying to distance herself from the fact that she was experimenting on someone only a few years older than her daughter. But it seemed her _true self_ was just as cold and only interested in results.

Goro laughed, an ugly sound that started out as something muffled and only got louder as his body continued to shake. “You want to see what I’m _capable of_?” he asked. “You want to see what you _did to me_?” He gripped his mask and flashed her a wicked grin, still laughing. “ _Persona!_ ”

Akira knew it was only a memory but that almost made it worse as the _creature_ loomed over them, to know that it wasn’t some nightmare or twisted figment of their imaginations, that Goro had a second persona. That Goro was the one behind the mental shutdowns, just as they’d suspected. That he was the Black Mask they were so worried about.

“Loki, Laevateinn,” he snarled, and Akira dropped his gaze as Wakaba’s Shadow crumpled to the floor. Goro curled a clawed hand in her hair and pulled her head up until she was looking at him. “You wanted to see my power, didn’t you? And you think I’m going to let you off with a single hit? No, I’m going to make you suffer like you did to me.”

Akira couldn’t bring himself to watch but he could do nothing for the sounds, the Shadow’s screams and Goro’s deranged laughter, as well as the tear of flesh. He wasn’t sure if it was the boy’s cognition as a detective and a hitman or Wakaba’s as a researcher that had her dying in such a realistic fashion. He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know.

Her cries faded until all that was left was Goro stabbing her body again and again, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter and his eyes blown wide. Finally he stopped, the sword still buried in her body, and brought his hands up to cover his face, either not noticing or not caring that he was getting even more blood on himself. His twisted smile warped into an expression of pure horror and he fell to his knees, sobs wracking his body.

The image froze and faded to reveal the empty car, the only sound being Futaba’s wailing.

“Dude,” Ryuji whispered, staring at his shaking hands.

Akira could admit he’d pushed them too far. He felt sick himself, if he was being honest. He kept quiet as he helped Futaba to her feet and got the Nav ready.

“‘m not comin’ back,” she mumbled. “Y-You can’t make me, not again.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t until they were walking back to Leblanc that he wondered what he was supposed to do without a navigator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Robin Hood awakening dialogue was pulled from [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159644) fic, it's stuck in my head ever since I read it and I couldn't think of a better way to portray it. 
> 
> I think this chapter has my favorite scenes in it. I had a lot of fun writing them. Whatever that says about me :3
> 
> EDIT: Now featuring art from the amazing [Space](https://twitter.com/spaceteacake_?s=20) and [Ash](https://twitter.com/spicyconditions?s=20), respectively. I absolutely love both illustrations. I owe you my life. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira drummed his fingers along his leg as he paced, chewing his lip raw. The train was late. The train was _never_ late. 
> 
> Morgana stood beside him, staring down the tracks. “Joker, maybe we should--”
> 
> “It’s fine,” he interrupted. His team had shrunk once again, both Futaba and Yusuke refusing to continue the infiltration. He didn’t blame either of them. Not after everything they’d seen. He was worried, though, about how they’d handle a fight if it came to that. It was just like Kamoshida’s palace, with only themselves to rely on. And--if he was being honest with himself--he wasn’t sure he could rely on the others.

The swaying of the train did nothing to help Goro’s stomach, which had been in knots since he’d left his apartment. He reached up to mess with his hair and met only air instead, and pulled his hat down further. He still wasn’t used to it being shorter. Not that he regretted what he’d done.

_“Shibuya, this is Shibuya. Please exit using the doors to the left.”_

His grip on the rail tightened and he tried to keep his breathing steady as people filed off. _It’s not too late_ , he thought to himself. _I don’t have to do this. I can get off and go back. This is stupid._

Of course he knew it was stupid. Just the _thought_ of going near the café made him feel sick. But something in him didn’t care. It was so close to the end of things anyway, the election was so close, what was one more cup of coffee? If Sakura-san would serve him at all, that was. Surely the Thieves had told him what he’d done. It was almost like a game, he reasoned. Who’d break first, him or Sakura-san?

He chose to ignore the fact that he already knew the answer.

Besides, he was already on the train so there was no point in wasting the fare. And he really did want some coffee.

The train jolted forward and he steadied himself as someone bumped into him. Rather than apologizing he felt them staring, and Goro tensed under their gaze. He was in no mood to deal with fans.

Finally he risked turning around and found a girl in a Shujin uniform staring blankly ahead, earbuds in and apparently oblivious to everything going on around her.

He took a deep breath and gave her a half smile, resisting the urge to snap at her. He might’ve given up on a lot of things at that point but even he knew starting fights was just asking for trouble. Shido was already keeping tabs on him after his earlier incident.

He closed his eyes and let the gentle noise of the tracks distract him.

_“--Jaya, this is Yongen-Jaya. Please exit using the doors to the left.”_

His head snapped up and he squeezed his way past people, giving muttered apologies as he inevitably stepped on a few feet.

He didn’t allow himself to relax as he made it to the platform, instead pulling his hat down further and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he started towards the backstreets.

He did fine as he walked past the shops, politely waving off the clerks. Then he spotted the familiar red and white awning and froze.

He needed to _move_ , to keep going before someone recognized him and asked for an autograph or a photo. Turning down persistent people trying to sell him something was one thing but fans were another entirely.

His hands shook and he clenched them tighter, his nails digging into the leather of his gloves so tightly he was afraid they’d leave marks. Coming to Yongen-Jaya was a mistake.

He took a deep breath and forced himself forward again, to keep walking no matter what. Forced his mind to go blank.

_Just like the interrogation room_ , said the voice in the back of his head.

“Shut _up_ ,” he growled, grabbing the doorknob. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn it. He wasn’t sure what was stopping him, the knowledge that Kurusu wouldn’t be inside or that the Sakura's _would_.

He was vaguely aware that his chest was heaving and he took a few unsteady steps back. Everything sounded muffled and it felt as though there were eyes on him. He knew deep down that he was alone but his thoughts were muddled and he bolted, the only thing on his mind being to get as far away from the café as possible.

He didn’t make it far, only getting a chance to duck into an alley before his legs gave out and he sank to the ground. He shoved a gloved hand in his mouth, biting down hard on the leather to keep himself from sobbing. He was fairly certain he was hyperventilating. He _knew_ he was crying. The last time he’d cried had been--

_After the interrogation room._

He curled his fingers in his hair, pulling at it. He never should have set foot in Yongen-Jaya.

* * *

Akira drummed his fingers along his leg as he paced, chewing his lip raw. The train was late. The train was _never_ late.

Morgana stood beside him, staring down the tracks. “Joker, maybe we should--”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. His team had shrunk once again, both Futaba and Yusuke refusing to continue the infiltration. He didn’t blame either of them. Not after everything they’d seen. He was worried, though, about how they’d handle a fight if it came to that. It was just like Kamoshida’s palace, with only themselves to rely on. And--if he was being honest with himself--he wasn’t sure he could rely on the others.

“Do you think this means… he won’t let us on?” Ann asked at last, voicing what they all seemed to be thinking.

Akira didn’t want to believe so. Not after everything the Shadow had _let them see_ , if what he’d said was to be believed. But he couldn’t deny the fact that they’d been waiting for awhile.

“I still don’t understand this all,” Ryuji whined. “If the thing’s always moving towards the Diet Building, how come we’re able to get off and come back. He’d be backtracking!”

“Don’t try to make sense of the metaverse,” Morgana said quietly, for once not having a barb in return.

It was clear none of them wanted to be where they were and had only stuck around because of him. Akira wasn’t sure whether it was out of loyalty or just the knowledge he’d charge in on his own if they left him like the others.

He was about to suggest they just go home and try Shido’s palace the next day when he heard it: the telltale rattling coming down the tracks. His head snapped up as the train slowed and eventually stopped in front of them. It was the caboose again, not that he expected anything different.

What _was_ different was that, as soon as they stepped onboard, the Shadow spoke.

_“Your team is looking a little ragged, Kurusu. Did they finally realize the futility of it all?”_

He sounded… off, Akira recognized. He didn’t bother answering and just made his way through the first door and into the car with the bullies. He was in no mood to deal with Goro’s antics.

He forced his way through the others just as quickly, keeping his head up and forcing himself not to look at the cognitions. Not the child in the room with the slowly decaying corpse of his mother. Not the teenager who’d just signed away his life as a hitman, the gravity of his decision just sinking in.

Several of the doors were locked again but he just cursed under his breath and fiddled with a lockpick until they could continue. He assumed the Shadow was amused more than anything, since it was all just a formality and he controlled everything. Akira didn’t care enough to find out.

He wasn’t even sure if the others had bothered following him until they reached the car from before with Wakaba’s Shadow, which lay in a heap on the floor. The distortion, or whatever it be called, seemed contained to the area around her body and he was at least thankful for that. He tried the door but it didn’t budge and he slowly curled his hands into fists.

_“Are you sure you’re prepared to see what’s in there?”_ the Shadow asked.

Akira could tell he was trying to remain composed but there was a waver to his voice that betrayed him. They were close.

_“Well, I suppose_ you _would be ready,”_ he said after a minute. _“I wonder about your teammates though?”_

Ann shot him a look. “Joker, maybe we should--”

“We’re not turning back,” he insisted. “Open the door, Goro.”

He laughed dryly. _“Well, since you asked so nicely.”_

He slid the door open and froze as the smell of blood filled the air. It wasn’t the blood that made him stop though. No, he was used to that, whatever that said about him. It was the fact that there had been no whir of a camera like he’d grown used to, just an already changed room waiting for them. And sitting at the flimsy looking table in one of two chairs was _him_.

Akira knew it was likely a matter of time before he faced himself. Hell, he might’ve been insulted if he _didn’t_. But for him to be _there_ of all places… Bile churned in his stomach and he took a heaving breath, the chemicals overwhelming him. There was a hand on his shoulder and he resisted the urge to swing. Somewhere deep down he knew it was one of his friends but his first instinct was that he didn’t want to be hit again.

“Oh what the _fuck_ \--”

His double was even dressed like him, which should have set off some alarm bells but Akira was too busy trying to get air in his lungs to realize it wasn’t his uniform. It wasn’t beaten and bloody either. His doppelganger seemed to be staring at him, with… fascination? Amusement? He couldn’t place the expression.

Then the other Akira got to its feet--without a limp, he was distantly aware of--and stood in front of them. All too late he understood it was a cognition. It didn’t speak, idly playing with one of its curls.

“This is what his Shadow meant by ‘are your teammates ready’, huh?” Morgana asked. “Is this supposed to make us question which one is our leader?”

“Mona, wait--” he started, but the cat just looked him up and down, ears flattening against his head.

He’d never wanted his friends to find out like this. He’d never wanted them to find out at all. He could already tell it was nearly a perfect double and he was willing to bet the resemblance was more than superficial, if their many outings were anything to go by. He thanked whatever god existed that the cognition hadn’t spoken yet, as he had a _special_ mask he donned for his time with Goro. Or rather, he forwent it completely. He didn’t want his friends to see such a part of him. They _couldn’t_ see such a part of him--

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you abandoned me,” it said, and while the voice was his, the words were _not_. That wasn’t how he acted with Goro. It was something else entirely.

His friends didn’t know that though, if the looks they gave him were any indicator. He opened his mouth to defend himself but not before the cognition spoke again.

“Leaving you behind and joining Goro really was the right choice,” it said. “He’s not an emotional leech on me demanding something of me every second of the day, unlike _some people_.”

“That’s not--!”

He didn’t get to protest before they all looked at him. He had a feeling he knew what they were thinking: _If he looks and acts so much like him, then these must be his thoughts, right?_

“Listen to me,” he started, hands raised in submission. “That _thing_ might look like me but it’s _not_. You know I would never-- I mean, after everything I’ve done for you--”

“Everything we’ve done for them!” the cognition repeated, grinning. “That’s how we view our relationships, isn’t it? Business transactions! Give and take. And you all do an awful lot of taking.”

“Akira--” Ann said warningly.

He didn’t have a response for her. The more the cognition spoke the more he was afraid it was _right_. Not entirely, of course, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he’d told Goro he’d join him. When he thought back to that moment he wasn’t sure if he’d meant it or was just telling Goro what he wanted to hear, the way he did with all his other friends. _Goro_ was the one who’d pulled back, surprised by his answer.

Akira wondered if he’d be able to give him the same answer if he were asked again, after everything he’d seen. It seemed his cognitive double had. Was it meant to be a reflection of how he’d be, had he taken the deal again and Goro _hadn’t_ pulled back? Was it worse? Better? Somehow, deep in his gut, he had a feeling it was both.

“C’mon Joker, let’s get out of here.”

He studied the cognition, which seemed to study him right back. He wasn’t sure what role it was meant to play but if the rest of the palace had proved anything it was that fighting was rarely the way forward. He had no intention of fighting himself, either. He could even see the door behind the cognition and he started towards it but its expression sharpened.

“You’re serious about taking his Treasure then? Even after everything you’ve seen?”

_It’s not real. Don’t let it get to you. It’s just saying anything it can because you’re so close and it wants to stop you._

“What will changing his heart even do?” it continued. “He plans on confessing regardless. By making him _come to his senses_ , as you all seem to think, you’re only speeding up the process.”

Ann gasped and started whispering to the others.

He wanted to ask his double if it was serious, if it thought they’d give up just because of the say so of some thing they couldn’t even trust. There was no way he was turning back after everything he’d gone through to reach that point. But he also knew he couldn’t say that around his friends, so he settled on, “Anyone with a palace has desires distorted enough to warrant having their heart changed.”

The cognition sighed and nodded. “Then you leave me no choice.”

“Joker, watch out--!”

Blue flames enveloped it and he jumped back just in time to avoid getting burned. When they subsided it stood before them in his metaverse outfit, complete with a familiar black and white mask across its face. Akira barely had time to realize what was going on before it lunged at him, dagger in hand.

_Cognitions can’t have personas_ , he told himself, but he wasn’t positive. Goro had already proven himself quite the outlier when it came to what _should_ and _shouldn’t have_ been possible, and what actually _was_.

His friends hefted their own weapons but made no move to join the fight as it continued to target him. He grabbed one of the chairs and threw it but the cognition easily dodged it and kept up its assault.

Akira realized with a sense of relief that the mask seemed to be there to keep up the image and it couldn’t actually summon a persona. It didn’t change the fact that he was unarmed, and Goro knew him and his fighting style all too well. He knew he couldn’t win against himself.

“You know this is futile!” it said, gesturing grandly. “I know you do because you’re _me_!”

He _wasn’t_. He’d quickly decided he was nothing like the thing in front of him.

He held his own well enough for a while, considering he didn’t even have anything with which to defend himself. He vaulted over the table, his leg twingeing with pain. Just another reminder that the interrogation room was much closer than he would’ve liked to remember.

“Why won’t you just _give up?_ ” the cognition snapped. “Nothing good will come out of you changing his heart!”

Why weren’t his friends _doing anything?_

He dodged another arc of the blade and landed wrong, his leg giving out. He tucked into a roll and popped up a second later but the cognition was right behind him and he shot his friends a desperate look.

Then he felt it before he even understood what was happening, his sleeve torn and pain exploding along his shoulder. He instinctively clutched at it and the cognition slammed into him, knocking him to the grand and planting a boot on his chest.

“You knew they only cared about you so long as you were useful to them. And now here’s the proof,” it said, expression unreadable behind the mask.

He wanted to call out to them but getting thrown to the ground had knocked the wind out of him and all he could manage was a gasp as he locked eyes with Ann and Morgana, and he hoped the desperation in his eyes was enough to tear them out of their daze.

It hefted the dagger and, embarrassingly, the only thing to go through his head was _Is this considered a suicide if I’m killed by myself?_

Then the cognition crumpled to the ground and Akira rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blade that fell out of its hands. Ryuji stood behind it, hands shaking as he held his bat.

Akira tried to wipe his eyes but only succeeded in smearing blood along his face and he remembered the cognition got him. Ann and Morgana rushed to his side in an instant, summoning their personas to heal him.

“That was so scary--!”

“--cognition of yourself--!”

They talked over each other and he took deep breaths, still trying to get enough air in his lungs. _You just stood there and watched_ , he thought bitterly. He wanted to trust his friends--he really did--but actions spoke louder than words. Even Ryuji had taken a while to actually step in and do anything.

Finally he could breathe again and he pulled at his coat, rolling his shoulder experimentally and looked for a wound. It was stiff but there was no evidence of him ever being hurt.

_Of course not, you’re in the metaverse._

The cognition was still on the ground. There was no blood and Akira knew that it was just knocked out, and that they needed to hurry. He dragged himself to his feet, his leg still aching, and tried the door.

“Come on, Goro,” he said tiredly.

They were met with silence and he gave a sigh of disgust and dug in his pocket for a lockpick, and scowled as he didn’t hear the telltale click. They’d come so far and he wasn’t about to let a _locked door_ stop him.

“Come _on_ ,” he muttered, shoving his shoulder into it weakly.

“I’ve got this,” Ryuji said, nudging him out of the way. He hefted his bat for a moment before swinging it as hard as he could, the glass shattering. He reached through and unlocked it from the other side, grinning proudly.

“...I hope that didn’t do anything to his cognition,” was all Akira said.

Rather than another passenger car, they found themselves face to face with a much older door. Through the fogged glass Akira could see brown hair and he swallowed thickly. They’d finally reached the engine--and more importantly, the Shadow.

He tried the door and to his surprise it was unlocked, swinging open with ease. The Shadow didn’t even notice their presence, too focused on the controls in front of him, if his frantic muttering was anything to go by.

“Goro.”

He whipped around, eerie yellow eyes wide. He quickly plastered on a sweet smile but Akira had seen the truth for a split second. He was scared.

“I’m afraid I don’t have what you’re looking for,” he said, hands out and revealing them to be empty.

“Bullshit,” Ryuji snapped. “We walked through every inch of this train and we never saw the Treasure. Which means it's gotta be up here.”

He took a step forward and the Shadow moved back, bumping into the console. His hands were clenched at his sides, no doubt a conscious effort to not reveal the Treasure’s location. Akira could feel… _something_. It was close, wherever it was. Which meant they’d accomplished their goal of establishing a route.

“We got what we came for,” he said carefully, studying the Shadow’s expression. “Let’s head back.”

“But Joker--!”

“We can’t do anything now. Let’s go.”

The Shadow cleared his throat, looking more composed than he had a moment ago. “I take it you defeated the cognition, then? Even here, where I’m in complete control, you manage to exceed my expectations.”

Akira wanted to laugh. _Control_. Goro didn’t have control over anything in his life. Not even in his own mind. No one _in control_ would have cognitions of themselves, versions so split from their current view of themselves that they manifested as separate beings. He might’ve been able to lie to himself but Akira knew better.

“Let’s go,” he repeated, and Ann activated the Nav.

He checked his shoulder again as they walked back to Leblanc, frantically looking for a wound that wasn’t there.

“Hey, you okay?” Morgana asked, jumping out of Ann’s arms to balance on his shoulders. “That was… a lot.”

“We’re sending the calling card tomorrow,” he mumbled, more to himself.

“ _What?_ ”

“Not even a day to rest up and… process all of that?” Ann demanded.

“We have _eight days_ until the election,” he hissed, whipping around to face her. “And even after we change Goro’s heart and convince him to join us, we still have to get through the rest of Shido’s palace because we only have _two letters_. So either we change his heart as quickly as possible, or we admit we just threw away almost two weeks of time that could’ve been spent focusing on Shido.”

Ryuji scowled. “You’ve changed, man.”

“Then you’re welcome to not show up on Monday,” he snapped.

“H-Hey, Akira, wait--”

He pulled the cat off his shoulders and dropped him in Ann’s arms again. “I have to get the stuff for the calling card. I’ll see you after school on Monday. Or not.”

* * *

Akira was glad Phantom Thief merchandise was cheap, not that he’d ever admit it. At least not aloud. He’d had to buy a knockoff calling card and trace the logo himself since Yusuke had left the team, and go through the painstaking process of cutting out what he needed from magazines and newspapers. He had the papercuts to prove it.

“Earth to Akira, come in Akira,” came a voice in his ear, and he flinched as the cat’s whiskers tickled him.

“There’s the mail truck. It’s showtime.”

“Do I have to?” Morgana whined.

“Yes, now get going.”

He gave him one last hurt look and grabbed the calling card, careful not to bite through it, before slinking over to the truck and jumping inside. He nearly dropped his prize as he took in the bags overflowing with letters. Akira owed him _so much sushi_ for what he was doing.

* * *

“No, of course, I’ll let you get back to your job,” Akira said, hands raised in submission. “I was just curious about what it took to be a mailman. I mean, someone’s gotta do it, right? It’s not something they really mention in school but I think it’s great.” He waved to the man as the cat returned and wound around his legs. Without looking down he asked, “Is it done?”

“You didn’t tell me he used a fake name!”

“Probably to avoid any fans sending him things. You’re certain you got it right?”

“Unless there’s someone else who lives in this stupid building and gets both college letters and pretentious sounding magazines.”

He tried not to crack a smile. “Yeah, that’s probably him. Let’s go, we’ve gotta see which slot they stick it in.”

“This is so complicated,” he muttered. “You’ve really never been to his apartment before?”

Akira didn’t answer, too busy scanning for a flash of black and red as the mailman sorted things into the proper boxes.

_There!_

It went in 409 and he grinned, turning back to Morgana. “Ready?”

“I still don’t see why we have to do the second part of this plan…”

“You’ll be fine.”

“If something happens to me and I can’t fight tomorrow, it’s _your fault_.”

He was willing to bet on those odds.

It was all too easy to scale the fire escape with Morgana in his bag and he stealthily made his way to the fourth floor. They were lucky and there was a window just out of reach of the balcony. Movement inside caught his eye and he flattened himself against the building, risking a glance. It was Goro and he couldn’t fight the grin that stretched across his face. All they had to do was wait for him to leave.

He fiddled with some loose materials to pass the time, and before long he heard the door slam. _I’m sorry, Goro_ , he thought as he used his newly created lockpick on the window. It opened almost too easily and he wondered why the boy didn’t invest in something more robust. _Isn’t he worried about Shido and his conspiracy, even living on the fourth floor?_ Well, he wasn’t about to complain about any easy job as he slid the window open and gestured to the cat.

“Do I have to…?” he asked again, giving him one last pleading look.

“You’re getting sushi out of this.”

“Not even sushi is worth this,” he muttered as he scurried inside.

“I’ll be by the station, okay? I don’t want to get caught loitering, especially after I made conversation earlier. Can’t get recognized now.”

“Wait, you’re just leaving me here--?!”

Akira slid the window closed and gave him a bright smile, ignoring the whispered screams he got in return. He really did feel bad but getting caught when they were so close to the end would be… unfortunate.

* * *

Goro absentmindedly flipped through his mail as he nudged the door shut, scowling at all the bills. Shido paid his rent--well, as far as he _knew_ he was still paying, but he wasn’t positive after the incident with his hair--but it was up to him to cover his phone and everything else. Being the darling Detective Prince paid well enough with the TV gigs but Shido took his cut and only ever left him enough to cover the basics and leave him with a little bit of spending money, which usually went towards restaurants and other things to play up his image anyway.

There were a few letters from universities as well and he set them aside, his lips curling back in a sneer. He wouldn’t be attending university if everything went according to plan.

Then a flash of red caught his eye and he pulled out something he was all too familiar with.

The Thieves’s message had been buzzing at the back of his mind since he’d initially received it, but he hadn’t even considered the idea of them _targeting him_. It wasn’t that he thought his desires were free from distortion--no, he was perfectly aware of just how _distorted_ he was. He just didn’t care. But a calling card had never crossed his mind. How had they even found his Shadow? A persona and a Shadow couldn’t exist at the same time… right?

He glanced around, fighting to keep his expression neutral. He knew the Thieves were most likely watching and he would _not_ give them the satisfaction of watching him panic. “I wonder what would happen if I just… didn’t read this?” he mused aloud.

Morgana crawled out from under his coffee table, idly licking one paw. “Whether you read it or not doesn’t matter. You already know what getting one of those means. Seeing the card at all has already caused the same change in cognition. I think Akira would like it if you read it, though.”

He studied the emblem on the back. It didn’t look nearly as polished as their previous cards. _Did something happen to Kitagawa?_

“Oh. He would, would he? Well then.” He tore the card cleanly in half and let it drop to the floor, smiling sweetly. “No.”

He let his act drop as well and he put the rest of his mail down roughly, grabbing the cat, who squirmed in his arms.

“H-Hey! Put me down!”

He opened the window with his free hand and all but shoved him outside. “Stay _out_ of my way,” he snapped, slamming the window shut and flipping him off for good measure. “Goddamn cat,” he muttered. “Goddamn _thieves_ , always sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

He stared at the card on the floor and made a noise deep in his throat. “‘He’d like it if you read it,’” he said, mimicking the cat and waving his hands. He glared at the pieces for a moment before snatching them up, shoving them in the trash.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a fool,” he grumbled. “I know what kind of person I am. I’m sure I already know what it says.”

And if he _was_ curious about what it said… well. That was nobody’s business but his own.

* * *

The shop felt empty without an extra four people in it, Akira realized almost belatedly. Morgana was pacing on one of the tables and Ann and Ryuji sat at another, staring at him expectantly. His finger lingered over the Nav.

It wasn’t that he was getting cold feet. No, he was prepared to do whatever it took to change Goro’s heart, especially after what his cognitive doppelganger had said about him confessing regardless. He already had a plan for that, although he hadn’t told the others yet. He knew they wouldn’t like it.

“Akira?” Ann asked quietly.

He ran over things one last time in his head, supplies they’d need and what was likely awaiting them in the metaverse. He could see Morgana watching him curiously out of the corner of his eye, tail flicking every once in a while. He took a deep breath and looked at the three of them and they all nodded.

He activated the Nav.

When the distortion settled they were still sitting in Leblanc and Morgana scrambled off the table. Akira found himself relaxing almost instinctively as he noticed the corners of his vision were obscured by a familiar black and white mask. He managed a trademark Joker smirk, already feeling more comfortable. He wasn’t going to enjoy what they were about to do but at least he had a mask to hide behind.

“It’s showtime.”

They made it to the station without any problems and he found himself glancing over his shoulder. It put him on edge how _perfect_ everything seemed. Morgana had told him Goro hadn’t even read the card and while it should have been enough to trigger a change in cognition, there was no guarantee. And there was no time to try again, provided they could get him to read it at all.

The tracks began to rattle and he sucked in a breath as the train stopped much closer to the engine than they were used to, and a door swung open. The speaker crackled to life and a voice filled the air. Akira couldn’t make out what he was saying but it didn’t seem to be directed at them. It was clear Goro was on edge. The calling card had worked.

He boarded before he could change his mind and was glad to find his friends right behind him. It seemed they trusted Joker more than they did Akira. Or maybe they just wanted to get things over with.

They found themselves inside the same car as before, the one containing a version of the interrogation room. The cognition, however, was gone. He swallowed down bile and forced himself forward. Their goal was the engine. There was no time to get caught up in the past.

The door was still unlocked even after Ryuji had brute forced his way through the last time and Akira couldn’t help but feel it meant Goro’s already-minimal control was slipping.

His Shadow was still at the controls, but he wasn’t alone. The cognitive Akira stood at his side. It seemed to notice them before the Shadow did and stood in front of him protectively.

Akira could sense the Treasure and tell it was close but he couldn’t pinpoint its location.

Then the Shadow turned around and his eyes seemed even more unnatural than usual, hazy and unfocused. Something was wrong. Akira’s first instinct was that somehow Goro had entered his own palace and it was on the verge of collapse, the same way Futaba’s had been.

The Shadow blinked a few times and seemed to stare _through_ them. “Leave,” he said at last, his voice low and hands curled into fists. “Get the hell off my train.”

“Joker--” Ann started, and he knew. Something was very wrong.

His gaze was drawn to the controls behind him and what looked like an emergency brake. If they could somehow stop the train--

The cognition followed his gaze and curled an arm around the Shadow’s waist, whispering something in his ear. His gaze sharpened.

“Did you see that…?” Morgana asked.

He most certainly did. The Shadow’s vest… _moved_.

Without warning something black and white burst forth and Akira realized a moment later it was a clawed arm as it clasped around the brake. It pulled on it almost experimentally and if he weren’t so focused on the fact that the Shadow wasn’t moving at all he might’ve wondered if it were really going to be that easy. Then it snapped off the metal and placed the pole in the Shadow’s hands, who gripped it tightly.

_No, of course not. It’s never that easy._

He reached for his dagger but not before the cognition, who got up in his face. “Don’t touch him,” it snarled, and he took a step back.

_Is that what Goro thinks of me? Is that what Goro… wants of me?_

He didn’t get time to think about it as both the Shadow and the cognition came at him. He was about to resign himself to his fate when Morgana and Ryuji lept in front of him to handle the cognition. He was still left with the Shadow, which was looking at him with vacant eyes and a white knuckled grip on the brake. He shot Ann a look and thankfully she seemed to pick up on it. They could still operate as a team. He could still depend on them.

He was torn from his thoughts as a pellet from Morgana’s slingshot nearly hit him. “Duck!” the cat yelled and he hit the ground without a second thought, and he heard the cognition grunt as it hit him head on.

They were still in the middle of a fight. There’d be time to thank them for sticking with him for so long later.

Akira would’ve liked to think he knew Goro’s fighting style after Sae’s palace and their duel in Mementos, but the Shadow moved in a way that was entirely unfamiliar to him. Some of his actions were sloppy and Akira was able to get in what he knew was a cheap hit. Sometimes he was light on his feet and moved in a way that almost felt familiar. And others he attacked with a rage Akira had never seen before, focused only on offense and leaving him open to attacks Akira would have made if he weren’t so focused on the blunt metal pipe being swung at him. He almost missed the saber from his princely outfit.

Still, he managed to hold his own long enough to watch Ann wrench the emergency brake into position. The change was immediate as they were thrown forward and he landed on top of the Shadow. He wrestled the pipe out of his hands and tossed it to the side, risking a glance at Ryuji and Morgana. They were handling themselves as well, the cognition held down and thrashing under their grip. It seemed it didn’t know when to give up. Well, it was a cognitive version of himself and his stubbornness was the reason they were there in the first place.

He looked down at the Shadow under him, which was still fighting and spitting curses. His eyes were still unfocused. Akira had never seen a Shadow in such a state, not in any of their targets. His gaze was drawn to the paper tucked in his vest pocket and he tried to grab it but the Shadow threw him off, stuffing it deeper.

It was just about all the confirmation he needed that it was the Treasure.

He opened his mouth to warn the others but it was too late, the cognition had already gotten its dagger back and Ryuji and Morgana jumped back to avoid getting sliced. Since the train had stopped short it seemed to somehow move even faster on its feet. The Shadow was the opposite, his movements jerky and all over the place.

“You stopped my train,” he growled. “Now we’re going to be _off schedule_.”

Akira had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what happened next as the cognition made its way over and handed over its blade. The Shadow’s hands shook as he took it and he stumbled, the black and white _thing_ emerging from him for a split second. The cognition seemed genuinely concerned as it rushed to his side, and Akira felt something he couldn’t quite place. Underneath it all Goro just wanted someone to take care of him, and he wanted Akira to fill that role.

Black ichor flowed from the Shadow’s eyes and mouth and distantly Akira was aware that it was like a mental shutdown. The cognition tried to wipe it away, saying something he couldn’t quite hear. Then it froze without warning and slumped forward, and Akira realized the hand that was holding the knife was out of his sight. Blood, bright red against the greys and blacks of his metaverse outfit, pooled on the ground and it took Akira a moment to register in horror the fact that the Shadow had stabbed it. It didn’t seem to understand either, looking between the wound  
And the Shadow in confusion and fear.

Akira felt as though he was going to be sick.

The Shadow seemed to snap out of his daze for a moment and recognition flashed in his eyes as he went to wipe his mouth, only smearing the black and now red, as he stared at the blood staining his gloves. “No,” he mumbled. “No, no, _no, **no**_ \--!” His whole body shook and he curled in on himself, over the body that was steadily bleeding out.

Akira couldn’t see the wound but he didn’t think it would be fatal with the position of the knife. Especially in the metaverse, where they could be brought back from the brink of death. He was about to offer his healing when he hesitated.

_It’s just a cognition, isn’t it? And not even an accurate one._

And if it was accurate, it vocalized all the thoughts he buried deep, deep down, and he didn't want the others to hear anything else it had to say.

So he stayed quiet while the Shadow continued his frantic mumbling, nails digging into his palms. _It’s just a cognition,_ he repeated.

Morgana rushed forward, already summoning Zorro and casting Diarahn. Ann wasn’t far behind him. “Why isn’t it working?” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and trying again, putting everything she had into her magic.

The wound continued to bleed and Akira bit his lip. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t working either. The only difference was that it was a cognition--

He glanced around nervously. Had his own wanting it to not survive influenced things? He didn’t have that much power--did he? He was a wild card.

“I didn’t mean to,” the Shadow whimpered, sounding small and scared and an awful lot like Futaba. “I didn’t want to--!”

Akira swallowed thickly as the pieces fell into place. It wasn’t his own cognition that had damned the thing, it was Goro’s. Not the Shadow’s, but _Goro’s_. He was convinced he’d killed him in the interrogation room. The cognition was already dead, as far as he was concerned. Nothing they could do would be able to save it.

The Shadow set aside the body that showed no signs of disappearing and got to his feet, his movements unsteady. The black was still dripping from his nose and mouth, if not at an increased rate, and Akira didn’t want to think about what it meant for Goro in the real world.

He quickly got other things to worry about as the Shadow hunched over and groaned, clawing at his chest. He righted himself a moment later and the black and white creature from before burst forth, hovering above him. Akira realized in horror it was a persona, and not Robin Hood. “Loki,” he said, before he could stop himself.

The creature’s smile only grew at the mention of its name. The Shadow laughed but it wasn’t Goro’s, but rather a deep, rumbling sound instead. _“Do I have you all to thank for his crumbling mental state?”_ Ann gasped and Loki continued, speaking through the Shadow. _“He thought he could bury me deep down but I was born from his heart, just like the other.”_ He flicked his wrist and the Shadow stepped forward.

Akira raised his knife but he didn’t want to fight him. He was already tired from earlier and his leg was acting up. Normally he could push the interrogation room behind him and make the cognition work in his favor, but seeing the room again had pushed it to the front of his mind and it was all he could focus on.

_“You want to take his Treasure, don’t you?”_ The Shadow tapped a finger against his chin, the way he’d seen Goro do when he was lost in thought. At the time, Akira had thought it almost cute that not everything about his Detective Prince act was truly an act. At the moment, it just put him on edge.

_“I don’t have anything against you,”_ he said at last. _“But where’s the fun in me just handing it over?”_ His grin somehow grew wider and _something_ bubbled up at the Shadow’s feet, steadily rising until it enveloped him. When it subsided he was wearing the blue and black outfit from the earlier memory, save for the mask.

Akira didn’t want to think about what it meant that not only was his mask gone, but his persona was controlling _him_. He didn’t have to as the Shadow grabbed his sword, a jagged red thing that Akira wanted to avoid getting stabbed by at all costs.

He didn’t even get a chance to warn the others before the Shadow lunged at them and he jumped back, his leg protesting. Ryuji wasn’t holding up so well either, obviously tired after fighting the cognition. He was about to tell him to drop back and have Yusuke take his place when he remembered: he didn’t have any reserve party members. His friends had all left him.

_No, I can’t blame them. They all had valid reasons for leaving. This palace is rough on everyone and I should be glad Ann and the others have stayed this long._

But he couldn’t completely silence the voice that told him his friends abandoned him because he voiced his own opinions for once and stopped being obedient and useful.

A yowl tore him from his thoughts and he realized Morgana had gotten caught. He rummaged in his pockets for a Recov-R and tossed it at the cat, who barely caught it.

“Why are you doing this?” Ann yelled, her voice hoarse.

The persona just grinned. _“Why?_ ” the Shadow said. _“Because it’s_ fun _. Watching someone give in to their base desires like this with no idea of what’s going on around them. I was born of his desire for chaos so I’ll sow it whenever the opportunity arises.”_

While it was true Loki had been born of Goro’s heart, the way all of their personas had, Akira had a feeling it didn’t quite mean the same thing that he’d been tortured out of him. He didn’t get to raise his point as the Shadow continued his assault, Loki waving his hand and commanding him.

He finally nicked him and Akira hissed, barely rolling out of the way as his leg gave out. It was then that he noticed the strings tied around his wrists, and even his legs and neck as well. Loki wasn’t just giving him orders. He was controlling him like a puppet.

_Well, what happens to a puppet if you cut its strings?_

The challenge came in getting close enough without getting cut himself. The Shadow was far too adept at handling his weapon. It was clear they were going to have to work together, and sooner rather than later. The longer the fight dragged on the more tired they got, and he didn’t have anyone standing by. He didn’t even have Futaba for analyses or buffs. It was like they were back in Kamoshida’s palace, unfamiliar with everything around them and only each other to rely on.

He shot the three of them a look and hoped they understood. Hoped that despite everything they’d been through in the past two weeks they could still _trust_ him.

He figured he’d find out and nodded before rushing the Shadow, and thanked whatever god existed that they were right behind him. Ryuji tackled the Shadow and he fought back, spitting half-strangled curses as the string dug into his throat.

Loki moved towards them but Ann and Morgana were on him in an instant, doing their best to hold him at bay while Akira got to work on the strings.

He started with the Shadow’s left arm, the one that was currently holding the weapon that was much closer to his flesh than he would’ve liked. He did his best to stay out of the way out of it and brandished his dagger.

It didn’t take long before he realized it wasn’t a normal cord binding him. His blade barely made a dent and the Shadow continued to yell and curse, although his cries were tinged with more pain than before. It almost sounded like--

_Like when he first awoke to Loki._

Akira pushed his thoughts aside and continued on the strings, the first one finally snapping. He heard Ann scream behind him and he doubled down, going after his other arm.

Loki broke through the line and the Shadow was wrenched to his feet again just as he cut the line. He kept his grip on the sword but clawed at the one at his throat with his free hand, fingers still slick with blood. It was clear they were doing something right and the persona’s control on him was slipping, even though the look in his eyes was still blank.

Loki studied them for a moment, and although his perpetual smile and lack of expression gave nothing away Akira thought he looked disappointed. _“Well don’t_ break _him,”_ he said with a huff. _“If anything happens to him I’m left without a host.”_

Ryuji hefted his bat and grinned. “Thanks for telling us how to beat you!”

“Skull, wait--” he said, but not fast enough.

The boy swung his weapon perhaps a bit too eagerly and the Shadow crumpled to his knees, choking as the line dug into his throat. He gripped the sword and swung it at Ryuji, nicking his leg.

“What the fuck?!” he demanded, limping back. “I thought we set him free but he just _stabbed me!_ ”

_I tried to tell you!_ Akira thought bitterly. He shoved those feelings down. It wasn’t the time for infighting. “What do you think happens when you hurt his Shadow?” he asked instead, barely concealing the venom in his tone.

“It hurts his persona,” he said, as though it was obvious.

_It only hurts his persona because it’s hurting him in the real world as well!_ He didn’t want to think about what state they were going to find Goro in when they left the metaverse. Instead he took a deep breath and turned back to his friends. “What we did before worked,” he said, trying to keep his voice low. “Panther, Mona, are you good to hold him back again?”

The girl nodded but he could see how she tried to hide a wince. They were all _exhausted_.

_Just one more_ , he told himself, trying to believe it.

He dodged a swing of the Shadow’s blade and gave himself a few more seconds to catch his breath before he nodded and rushed him. Akira didn’t want his knife anywhere near the boy’s throat and instead forced his fingers under the cord, nearly drawing back at the way the Shadow's throat moved as he swallowed and pulled away. It created just enough of a gap that he could wedge his blade between it and the Shadow’s eyes went wide.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, and just hoped he believed him.

He didn’t struggle as Akira worked the knife but he still scratched him, blood staining his gloves a darker shade of red and only making the line slicker and harder to get a grip on. He just grabbed it tighter, afraid of slipping and hurting him even worse. It was almost eerie how still the Shadow stayed with a blade against his throat, barely breathing as Akira worked at it.

Finally it snapped and he took a deep breath before hefting his sword. Akira was afraid something went wrong and he was going to turn it on him, but instead he sliced the ones on his legs--rather easily, Akira noticed--and got to his feet. His outfit changed right before their eyes, the stripes and helmet disappearing to reveal a familiar hat and vest. His throat was still bleeding but he just pressed a hand to it, smearing black and red together.

Loki towered over them, his grin warping into a snarl.

Akira knew none of them were in any shape to keep fighting and, for the first time he could remember, he wondered if they were going to die there. A quick glance to Morgana told him they were all out of magic and he didn’t have anything on him to help.

Then the Shadow pressed something into his hand and gave him a serious look. “You’ve proven to be persistent enough to deserve this. Or maybe I just hope you’ll leave me alone if I give it to you.”

He looked at the scrap of paper, the timetable he’d had tucked into his vest pocket. His Treasure. He didn’t know what to say.

The Shadow seemed to notice and rolled his eyes. “Just get out of here. I’ll deal with him.”

“You’re hurt--” he managed.

“And I won’t exist once you _get out of here_.”

Akira knew he was right. The fact that he’d willingly given up the Treasure meant they’d done what they came to do and they could leave, and Goro in the real world would have a change of heart.

_Which means our problems are probably just beginning_ , he thought wearily.

He gripped the paper tighter and hoped the blood on it wouldn’t last outside the metaverse as he fumbled for his phone. Loki seemed to catch on and let out a roar, and he squeezed his eyes shut and activated the Nav. Then the ground dropped out from under them and when the world stopped spinning he found someone staring at him.

They were back in the real world--in public. He scrambled to his feet and helped Ann and Ryuji up as well, picking up Morgana and hurrying out of the station.

He ignored the looks and stopped in the shadow of a building, leaning against the wall and trying to catch his breath. Morgana wasn’t even protesting about being carried like a sack of potatoes which was a testament to just how tired they all were.

He unfurled the paper just as the others caught up to him and he swallowed thickly, his legs nearly giving out. Morgana tried to take a look but he stuffed it in his pocket.

He… had no idea how he was supposed to break his plan to his friends. Eventually he settled on an indirect approach. “There’s one more thing we have to do before our job is done.”

“Dude, I’m _exhausted_. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“...It really can’t,” he said. “You can rest on the train, though.”

“Akira--” Ann said warningly.

“Just trust me. Please.” He knew he was asking a lot and he hadn’t even told them what he was planning on yet. But he couldn’t do it alone.

The girl sighed. “Fine. But you’d better explain on the way.”

* * *

“Tell me we’re here to get back the calling card or something,” Ryuji said sharply as they stopped in front of the apartment complex. “Tell me we’re not here for _him_.”

Akira took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even. “You all heard what the cognition of me said. Goro’s plan from the very beginning was to confess and hope to take Shido down with him. We have to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do that.”

“And your plan is to… what, stake out his apartment?”

He winced. He still wasn’t sure how to explain that part of the plan to them. “I was going to… bring him back to Leblanc,” he said at last.

“You _cannot_ be serious--”

“You came here to kidnap him?!”

“ _Keep your voices down!_ ” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. They couldn’t afford to get caught. Not when they were so close. He deemed them safe and turned to glare at them. “I know you guys don’t like him, _I get that_ , but there’s no point in us changing his heart and then letting him confess anyway.”

“I thought the whole point of changing people’s hearts was to let society deal with them,” Ann said sourly. It was clear she was thinking of Kamoshida.

He wanted to fight her on that point but just kept his mouth shut. They didn’t understand that Shido was the one pulling the strings and if Goro _dared_ act out, he’d be killed. Instead he was going to prove to them that the boy had changed, which would be all too easy as long as the change of heart went as planned.

“You can leave if you really want to, but we’ve gotten this far together. Can you just stick with me for a little bit longer?” he pleaded. None of them spoke up or made any move to leave, which he took as a win. “Alright, follow me and don’t speak unless spoken to.”

They walked in as though they belonged and Akira nodded at the woman in the office, who barely looked up from her desk. He tried not to limp as they finally reached the elevator and made their way up to the fourth floor. From there he produced a lockpick from his pocket and cast a glance over his shoulder.

“Keep watch,” he told the others.

“Akira, you can’t--”

“ _Keep watch_ ,” he repeated, more insistent, and got to work. He didn’t bother making sure they did as they were told, just listened to their footsteps grow quieter and hoped they’d actually come back.

He got the lock before long and looked at Morgana, who was sitting with him and avoiding his gaze. “I don’t agree with this,” was all he said, almost too quiet to hear.

“I know.”

Ann returned a few minutes later. Alone. “Ryuji said he was going to get some air and clear his head,” she said, and Akira knew it meant he probably went home. He didn’t blame him. Not after everything they’d just gone through, after everything they’d seen in the past two weeks.

He took a deep breath to steel his nerves and pushed the door open, wincing at the way it squeaked. The main room was dark and he frowned. _Wouldn’t that bother him?_ he wondered. _Unless he uses it to let him know if someone’s breaking in--_

All too late the thought occurred to him and then someone was on top of him, and there was a sharp pain in his shoulder. Ann screamed and he tried to push the person off but all he could focus on was the pain, and he tried to roll instead but they had him pinned down. Then their grip loosened and he realized it was Goro, who looked just as horrified.

“Akira…?”

“Hey, Goro,” he said, raising his good arm to wave weakly. “Can you maybe get off me--”

His hands were shaking and his chest was heaving, and Akira was afraid something had gone wrong.

“You… You’re _alive_ ,” he said, it coming out as more of a strangled whisper. “You’re not _dead_. _I didn’t kill you_.”

The interrogation room felt so far away after everything they’d just gone through it took him a moment to realize what he meant. “I’m… I’m alive,” he said at last.

“ _Akira_ ,” Ann said, sounding urgent and a little choked.

He tried to look back at her but his shoulder twinged in pain and he looked at it instead, and realized there was a knife buried in it and bleeding heavily. _Ah_ , he thought to himself dumbly, _that’s what that was_.

He knew he needed to keep his wits about him, that panicking wouldn’t help. But Goro was still _on top of him_ and all he could focus on was the growing pain and the blood staining his clothes-- _I really liked this coat_ \--and the fact that Goro had just _fucking stabbed him_.

The boy finally got off of him and looked around in a mix of horror and confusion, his hands shaking. Akira tried to sit up but his shoulder protested and he accepted his fate, content to just lie there for a moment. Ann and Morgana looked as though they were at a loss as well and he knew deep down he was only calm because he was probably going into shock, but he was calm nonetheless.

“Akechi, oh my _god_ \--”

“What did you do that for?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Goro snapped. “I didn’t even know he was _alive_ and you lunatics just _broke into my apartment_!”

“So your first instinct is to grab a knife and stab someone?!”

“I thought you were an intruder, or one of Shido’s men coming to finish me off!”

Akira knew they all needed to calm down before a neighbor called the police on them. “Do any of you know how to drive?” he asked suddenly.

They all looked at him in bewilderment, which meant at least they weren’t screaming at each other. “Akira, what the hell--”

“I should probably see Tae and I don’t want to take the subway like this,” he explained.

“ _You need to go to a hospital, there’s a knife in your arm_ \--”

“No!” he said sharply. “Tae will be able to help and I _cannot_ go to a hospital like this. I can’t cause Sojiro that kind of trouble, and they’ll think I was in some kind of fight and probably tell the cops and then I’ll be sent to juvenile hall for violating my probation. So I’m asking again: Do either of you know how to drive?”

“I’m only seventeen,” Ann said, her hands raised.

They turned to Goro and he stifled a nervous laugh. “You think just because I’m a celebrity I have a car? They gave me a _bike_.”

Akira could feel blood still staining his clothes and he sighed. He really did like the coat. He grabbed the handle of the knife and was about to pull it out when Goro slapped his hand away.

“Kurusu, are you an _idiot_?” he snapped, some of his usual fire coming back. “You’ll only bleed out faster. We can… I’ll call a cab, since it’s my fault you’re like this,” he mumbled. “Takamaki, see if you can cover that with a coat or something if he’s so insistent on going all the way back to Yongen like that.”

* * *

Tae pulled the bandages tighter and he hissed, ducking down as she gave him a look. “You’re really not going to tell me how this happened, huh?”

“Knife Monopoly,” he said stubbornly, trying to roll his shoulder.

She whacked him over the head with her clipboard. “You got _very lucky_ it missed any major nerves but it’s almost guaranteed to leave a scar. And you might have a limited range of motion with that arm in the future. You’re to _rest_ , you hear me? None of this Phantom Thief business or wandering the city. I’ve got eyes and ears all over and if you disobey me this time I might accidentally switch your painkillers with something a little more… potent.”

He swallowed thickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And stop getting into trouble, would you? It’s only been three weeks since you showed up with a broken leg and some of the worst bruising I’ve ever seen.”

He promised to do better, mostly because Tae _terrified_ him. “And, er, about Sojiro,” he said, playing with his hair with his good hand. “I’ll give you free coffee if you don’t tell him about this.”

She thought for a moment. “I’m telling your guardian and you’ll give me free coffee in exchange for not telling the cops your boyfriend stabbed you.”

“He’s not my--!”

She raised one eyebrow. “But he did stab you?”

“It’s… complicated,” he finished lamely.

She just sighed and shoved the bag of pills in his free arm. “Try to keep your lovers’ quarrels under control from now on. And I’ll be cashing in that offer for free coffee as soon as you’re healed up enough to brew me some.”

“Thanks again, Tae--”

“Get out of here! Go back home and rest!”

He couldn’t help but laugh as he made his way to the waiting room where Ann and Goro were waiting. Morgana was still in the bag, if the way it was moving was any indicator. They both looked _exhausted_ and he remembered they’d cleared a palace only a few hours earlier. They really did need a break.

_But the election is less than a week away and we still haven’t made any progress in Shido’s palace_ , he thought wearily.

There was no time to think about that though. Not when they still had to worry about Goro’s change of heart or the fact that he couldn’t use his right arm.

“Hey, thanks for staying,” he said, rubbing his neck nervously.

Ann picked up her head and stifled a yawn. “What’s the verdict?”

“Strict orders to rest. Or else,” he added, smirking. “Let’s get back to Leblanc, yeah? The two of you can stay over, I’ll placate Sojiro.”

She coughed into her fist. “I appreciate the offer, but I _really_ need a shower and… I’d like to sleep in an actual bed tonight. No offense.”

“That’s… fair. I’ll pay for your getting home. C’mon Goro, the trains aren’t running anymore and you shouldn’t have to take a cab back to your apartment. You can spend the night in the attic. And you sort of owe me some help since you were the one who did this to me,” he said, cracking a smile.

The boy didn’t even lift his head and Akira felt his grin slip.

“Goro? I’m sure we have some spare blankets laying around and you could borrow something of mine to wear--”

He got up, his movement a little jerky, and didn’t speak. Akira would’ve appreciated _some_ kind of indicator as to how Goro was feeling about the fact that he was alive and he’d just put a knife in his shoulder. He supposed the fact that Goro hadn’t fled while Tae was patching him up was a good enough sign.

“So… your hair,” he started, trying to strike up a conversation as they walked back to the shop. “Just trying a new look? Or--”

The boy didn’t reciprocate, so Akira sighed and gave up.

They made it back to Leblanc without any issues and found the sign flipped to _Closed_. Sojiro had already locked up and gone home for the night, not that Akira really expected anything different. It just meant he wouldn’t have to explain things until the next morning. He rummaged in his pocket for his key and nearly dropped it with his non-dominant hand but finally managed to let them in. Goro silently followed him upstairs and Akira was once again struck with the thought that something had gone wrong. He’d never heard the boy be quiet for so long before.

He tried to brush it off as he dug through his things for his summer blanket and two pairs of pajamas, which were really just sweatpants and old shirts. “You can take the bed and I’ll take the couch,” he said. “Er, if you want to change the sheets first I can get you a set, but I don’t think I can really do it like this--”

Goro just took the clothes from him and disappeared downstairs, and a moment later he heard the bathroom door close.

Something was wrong.

He got changed himself, biting back curses as his shoulder protested as he wrestled with the shirt. He managed it as Goro came back and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up over his head without even looking at him.

He wanted to pry, wanted to ask how he was feeling, not even to make sure the change of heart worked but because they’d just changed his psyche without his say so. Instead he kept his mouth shut and made up the couch as best he could, trying to find a position that didn’t irritate his shoulder even more.

Morgana padded upstairs and Akira realized he hadn’t even noticed the cat had disappeared. He curled up next to him, though the space was even tighter than it was on the bed, and began to purr. Akira found his eyes closing as the exhaustion of clearing the palace, fighting Goro’s Shadow--or rather, Loki--breaking into his apartment, getting stabbed, going to Tae’s, and then dealing with the aftermath of… everything finally hit him all at once.

He wasn’t sure what woke him as he snapped awake. His shoulder ached a bit but it didn’t seem like enough to pull him from his drug induced sleep. Then he realized the covers were pulled back from the bed and it was empty. Goro was gone.

He forced himself to his feet, pushing past the pain and feet thundering down the stairs. He was about to walk around the backstreets yelling his name, consequences be damned, when he realized the boy was sitting in a booth. He was curled in on himself with his nails digging into his arms, barely stifling his cries.

Akira’s stomach dropped at the sight and several thoughts ran through his head at once: _Goro would never let himself cry in front of anyone_ and _He looks so much like Futaba like this_ and _Was changing his heart the right choice?_ among them.

“Goro?” he asked once he’d swallowed down the bile in his throat. “Are you okay?”

Obviously not, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to vocalize his actual thoughts.

Goro’s head snapped up and Akira couldn’t read his expression, whether it was more fear or anger. All he knew was that if looks could kill, he would’ve been dead awhile ago.

“Stay away from me,” he snarled, but he didn’t look very threatening with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Still, Akira only had one good arm and he wasn’t sure he could win a fight in his current state. He chose not to slide into the booth across from him and instead hopped up on a chair at the counter. “Do you… want to talk about it?” he asked lamely. He had no idea how to actually comfort someone. He was so used to just being a sounding board for his friends when they were wrapped up in their own little worlds and just needed to vent. Even Futaba’s breakdowns were usually solved by just being near her. He had no idea what he was doing.

Goro looked as though he could tell and just curled tighter in on himself. “Go back to bed,” he mumbled.

“That couch is awful on my back. I’m just gonna sleep down here.”

“Kurusu--”

“I won’t say anything, I promise,” he said, his good hand raised in submission. “I’m just… really tired.” He put his head down on the cool wood and closed his eyes, but he could hear Goro sniffling.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and made no move to leave.

_It’s a step in the right direction_ , he thought as the boy quieted down. As they both drifted off to sleep again he couldn’t help but worry about what the next day would bring, and how long it would take for the change of heart to kick in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I wonder what that calling card said :3
> 
> Knife Monopoly was originally going to be a placeholder excuse for something a bit more reasonable, but every person who read it laughed and begged me to keep it, so here we are.
> 
> Absolutely _incredible_ art by [Saph](https://twitter.com/Saphira14922083?s=20), I really can't overstate how much I love it (and the terror in his eyes) <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What was that?” Makoto demanded, and it took him a second to realize she was talking to Goro. “Are you even trying? No, of course not, because you enjoy making our lives difficult whenever possible. I _knew_ this was a mistake,” she muttered. 
> 
> The boy just stared blankly at her and she raised a hand, but Akira grabbed her wrist before she could slap him. “This is hard on everyone,” he said, standing between them. “There’s no need to make it harder by fighting amongst ourselves.”
> 
> “Ourselves? So you consider him a part of the team after everything he’s done? Joker, he was _using you_. The whole time! And from what I’ve heard from the others, he was doing it for a lot longer than just November.”

He was woken up by someone shaking his shoulder and he grit his teeth, opening one eye slowly to find Makoto standing over him. He nearly fell out of the chair and another set of arms steadied him. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice scratchy.

“Early,” she said, tone clipped.

He blinked away the spots in his eyes and dragged himself upright. “It’s… Tuesday, right? What about school?”

“We all decided Shido’s palace was more important,” Yusuke said, appearing beside the girl.

He yawned and froze. “Wait, where’s Goro?”

Morgana jumped up on the table and idly licked a paw. “Upstairs.”

“What do you mean ‘upstairs’? What’s he _doing_? We’re supposed to be keeping an eye on him!”

“From what I heard, _you_ insisted on that,” Makoto said tersely. “...Although I agree he’s worth bringing into the palace, if only to prove your _detour_ wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

He tried to slide off the stool but a strong pair of hands held him back. “What do you plan on doing with your arm like that?” Haru asked, sounding more serious than he’d ever heard before. “Or rather, how do you plan on handling him if you can’t even handle yourself?”

It was clear someone--Ann or Morgana, probably--had filled in the others on what had happened. “He doesn’t need _handling_ ,” he said, pushing past the girl. “And we already agreed he knows more about Shido and his palace than any of us. He can help us get through it quickly.”

Ryuji blocked him at the base of the stairs. “And if he won’t help us?”

Why were they all suddenly against him? He’d accomplished his goal and they’d taken Goro’s Treasure. “He will,” he said firmly. “And if you’d let me through I could _prove it_.” He shoved him with his good arm and hurried to the attic to find Goro sitting at his desk, studying the infiltration tools laying around.

The boy looked up for a second before going back to what he was doing.

“Hey, Goro,” he said. “You feeling better this morning?”

He gave no indicator that he’d heard at all.

“...Right. We’re gonna go into Shido’s palace and we want you to come along. We figured you know more about him than we do, so--”

“What the hell happened to him?” came a voice from the top of the stairs, and Akira whipped around to see Futaba with her arms crossed.

“It’s nothing. He’ll come with us. _Won’t you, Goro?_ ”

He didn’t answer and Akira felt his stomach drop. Things were going to be harder than he thought.

He all but dragged the boy downstairs and into a booth, where everyone else was waiting.

“Are we ready?”

“It’s you we were waiting on,” Morgana said under his breath, and he chose to ignore the looks the others gave him as he fumbled for his phone.

Haru beat him to it and activated the Nav, and when the distortion settled he found himself staring out at a familiar sea. His stomach was in knots and he had a feeling it had very little to do with the rocking of the boat.

It only got worse as he met six masked faces, not seven.

Goro was still in the clothes Akira had lent him the night before.

The others seemed to pick up on it as well and he gave a one armed shrug. “I guess Shido trusts him enough to not see him as a threat. Now where were we, hunting down the TV station president?”

He had a feeling they hadn’t bought his excuse but they at least had the decency not to challenge him on it. At least, not until they got ambushed by two Baphomet that seemed intent on targeting Goro.

“Crow, do something!” Futaba yelled across her comms. “You’re weak to their curse skills!”

His metaverse outfit had appeared once they were under attack, the princely outfit they were used to, but he made no move to do anything.

“Robin Hood!” Akira yelled, hoping to jolt him into recognition.

It seemed to do something and he gripped the mask with one hand. It came off with far too little resistance and no persona materialized behind him, and Akira leapt in front of him and pushed him out of the way as his outfit melted back to the clothes he’d been lent and the attack hit them head on. Akira gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of him, and someone pulled him to his feet. Ann threw down a smokescreen and he found himself being dragged through it.

They didn’t stop running until they reached a safe room and he fell back in one of the plush chairs, still coughing on the smoke as he caught his breath.

“What was that?” Makoto demanded, and it took him a second to realize she was talking to Goro. “Are you even trying? No, of course not, because you enjoy making our lives difficult whenever possible. I _knew_ this was a mistake,” she muttered.

The boy just stared blankly at her and she raised a hand, but Akira grabbed her wrist before she could slap him. “This is hard on everyone,” he said, standing between them. “There’s no need to make it harder by fighting amongst ourselves.”

“Ourselves? So you consider him a part of the team after everything he’s done? Joker, he was _using you._ The whole time! And from what I’ve heard from the others, he was doing it for a lot longer than just November.”

 _He was being used himself by Shido!_ he wanted to shout. Instead he let go of her and turned to face the others. “Anyone else have any complaints they want to get out in the open before we move forward? I _know_ you guys don’t like the idea of working with him but he’s now our ticket through this palace.”

“Why are you so insistent on defending him?” Futaba asked in a horrified whisper. “You saw what he did to so many people… to _my mom_! And you want him to just… join the team like nothing happened?”

“He’s the best chance we have at making it through here while still meeting the deadline,” he repeated. “Isn’t that right, Goro? You know Shido better than any of us.”

Recognition seemed to flash in the boy’s eyes and Akira allowed himself to relax. Then Goro rushed forward and Akira was shoved to the side as he grabbed the dagger off his belt.

“If you want to go after him again you’ll have to go through me!” Ryuji snapped, standing in front of him protectively.

“We might not agree with everything he says but he’s still our leader!” Ann added.

But Goro didn’t aim the blade at him. He turned it on himself.

Akira tried to get up but his arm gave out and he gave the others a desperate look. Yusuke met his gaze and rushed forward to wrench the blade out of Goro’s hands.

“ _I was supposed to die anyway!_ ” he shrieked, a white knuckled grip on the weapon. “ _Stop it! Just let me die!_ ”

Ryuji joined in and they finally got the knife away from him and threw it to the side while the boy still thrashed in their grip and screamed. Akira could only watch in horror as Ann cast Dormina and Goro’s eyes fluttered shut, though he put up a fight until he went completely limp. The only sounds in the room were that of Futaba’s quiet sobs and the heaving breaths of everyone else.

“We… We can’t do this,” Ann said, her voice shaking.

“I knew it would come to this,” Makoto said, almost too quiet to hear. “As soon as I heard about your arm I knew this would happen. Noir was right, you can’t handle yourself and you certainly can’t handle him.”

“H-Hey, wait a second--”

“You need to go back, Joker. With him.”

“You guys said it yourself, I’m the leader!” he cried. “You can’t just get rid of me like that!”

“ _Akira!_ ” she snapped, forgoing codenames. “We have _five days_ to get through this palace and send the calling card because you were so set on changing his heart. We cannot afford any more distractions. Not when it’s all of our lives on the line.” There was an unspoken addition of _And not just yours_.

“...Fine. I’ll go back quietly, since it’s clear my authority means nothing.”

“It meant nothing the second you disregarded the unanimous decision rule,” she said curtly. “This all could’ve been avoided if you’d just followed the rules.”

 _I’ve always been a bit of a delinquent_ , he thought bitterly. He grabbed Goro, who was stirring in Ryuji’s arms, and nodded to the girl. She didn’t speak as she activated the Nav and when the distortion settled, they were back in the backstreets. Goro was silent again, dead weight in his arms, and Akira was afraid the spell had carried over and he was still asleep. Then he realized he was staring blankly ahead.

Yes, things were going to be much harder than he’d originally thought, he thought wearily as they dragged themselves back to Leblanc.

* * *

Sojiro wasn’t happy to see them come crawling back. Not after he’d unlocked the shop that morning and found the both of them asleep downstairs with no explanation. He’d demanded Akira explain what was going on and why the boy who’d tried to kill him only a few weeks earlier was wearing his clothes and asleep in a booth.

Akira had embellished the story a bit, saying Goro didn’t have anywhere else to go--which wasn’t a complete lie--and begged the man to let him stay for at least a day or two.

It seemed to be enough and Sojiro had eventually sighed and required he help out in the shop if he were going to get room and board.

And so Akira found himself fighting back a yawn and watching the counter while Goro did dishes and Sojiro stepped out to do the shopping.

There weren’t any customers and he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot on the wood.

_Ann’s right, we can’t do this. Not like this. But I don’t know what else we can do when he’s like--_

A crash tore him from his thoughts and his head snapped up, and he realized Goro had dropped a mug and was staring at his now-empty hands.

 _Sojiro’s gonna make me pay that off, isn’t he?_ he thought tiredly. He groaned and dragged a hand down his face before rummaging for the dustpan.

When he emerged with it he found Goro picking up the larger pieces with his bare hands.

“H-Hey, you’re gonna cut yourself if you’re not careful!”

The boy’s grip tightened and the ceramic dug into his palm, and crimson began to drip to the floor. He didn’t even seem to notice and Akira swore under his breath.

“Give me that,” he demanded, grabbing the pieces from him. “Now you have to bandage that and you can’t do dishes or the dirty water will irritate it. What am I supposed to have you do now, huh? If you’re not working, Sojiro really will make good on his threat to send you back out.”

“Let him,” he mumbled, the first words he’d spoken since they’d come back from the palace.

“I’m not going to _let him_ ,” Akira said firmly. He returned a moment later with the first aid kit and shoved it in the boy’s hands. “Go clean yourself up in the bathroom, okay? I'll… deal with this, I guess.”

He did as he was told and disappeared inside the room, and Akira let his head fall back as he leaned against the counter. He hoped the change of heart kicked in soon. He was doing the work of two people with only one functional arm and was already exhausted, and dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he realized it had barely been a day.

He was in the middle of sweeping up the remnants of the mug when the bell above the door rang and he nearly hit his head as he stood up too quickly.

“I’ll be right there!” he called.

“I have a package for Sakura-san to sign for!” the man yelled back, and Akira resisted the urge to scream.

_I hope that signature doesn’t need to be legible._

He heard the bathroom door slam as he took the box and breathed a sigh of relief. “Goro, you can just--”

The words died in his throat and the box nearly slipped from his grip as he turned around to find the boy holding a knife. He wasn’t doing anything with it. Not yet, anyway. He seemed to be… contemplating.

Akira swallowed thickly. “Goro--”

The door burst open and Futaba shuffled in, collapsing at the nearest booth. “...Oh, you’re still here.”

Tension hung so thick in the air Akira was practically choking on it and he stood between the two of them, trying to block the boy from her view. “How’d the infiltration go?”

“We got a letter, so that’s four,” the girl said, her gaze never leaving Goro. “We’re going back in tomorrow. Well, not you. Queen’s making sure of that.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she meant by that. “Sojiro got a package,” he said instead. “Want to help me open it?”

“Hey, Akechi,” she called. “What’s with the knife?”

He winced. “Futaba, I really don’t think that’s--”

“You think that’s a way out after everything you did?” she asked, dragging herself upright.

“Futaba, _please_.”

She got up in the boy’s face and glared at him, even though he had almost an entire foot on her. “You think you can just kill yourself after all the lives you ruined? What about my mom? Or Haru’s dad? You can’t just _disappear and pretend that didn’t happen_. I didn’t get to when my mom died--because you killed her, by the way.”

Akira flinched and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her back. “That’s not helping anyone. C’mon, you can talk to him more once he undergoes the change of heart--”

She tore out of his grip. “No, I want to hear from him now. Do you regret what you did? Any of it?”

“He’s barely been talking, leave him alone--”

“Stop _defending him!_ ” she snapped. “You saw what he did, Akira! He’s a murderer!”

“So were the people I killed,” Goro said, voice low. “I may have been acting on orders but I don’t regret what I did. At least, not Isshiki and Okumura.”

The girl gasped and began to tremble, though with fear or rage Akira couldn’t tell. “Your memories are _wrong_. My mom was a great woman--”

“Your mother was distorted just like everyone else,” he said, sneering at her. “She may have been acting on Shido’s orders but she still cared about the data. The fact that she had a Shadow is testament to that.”

“...No. No, you’re wrong,” she repeated.

“You’re a smart young thing, you know how the metaverse works, just like she did. You know that the farther in Mementos a Shadow is, the more distorted they are. Do you want to know where I found her?”

“Shut up!” she shrieked, clamping her hands over her ears.

He almost smiled. “All the way down on the Path of--”

“ _Goro!_ ”

The boy looked at him, expression blank again and head cocked to one side.

“That’s enough,” Akira said sharply.

She shook her head and wiped at her eyes. “Changing your heart was a mistake,” she muttered. “We should’ve let you rot in prison like you wanted.”

“Futaba, wait, please--”

She ran out and Akira was about to give chase when Sojiro returned.

“What the hell did you do?” he demanded.

“Nothing!” he cried, his hand raised in submission.

“And what about him?”

“I’ll keep him away from her, he said some things he shouldn’t have-- You can’t throw him out--”

The man studied the bandage wrapped sloppily around his hand and the ceramic dust on the floor. “You’d better give me a damn good reason to keep him around.”

Distantly, Akira wondered if it was even possible to salvage the situation. Sojiro had every right to be angry, especially when Futaba’s well-being was on the line. He threw a glance over his shoulder and Goro stared back at him, mouth set firmly in a frown. Akira knew if he were to speak he’d likely say something that would get him kicked out.

 _He probably wants that, doesn’t he?_ Akira thought wearily.

Sojiro gave him a look and Akira realized he was still waiting for an answer. One he didn’t have.

_How did everything go so wrong?_

* * *

we live in a society  
  
i hate to ask but… can anyone come over and help me for a few hours??  
bonkin  
sorry dude ive gotta go shopping for my mom  
#1 Shiho Stan  
sorry!!! ive got a shoot in half an hour  
Burger Queen  
i can’t, i have a meeting about some company things today

Akira stared at his phone and grimaced as the responses came in. He knew some of them were likely legitimate reasons, but he had a feeling at least a few of them were excuses. There was also the fact that a few names were missing…

He dragged a hand down his face and groaned. He was so tired, having barely slept more than a few hours a time in the past two days. The last time he’d closed his eyes for what was supposed to be a twenty minute nap he’d woken up hours later and found Goro downstairs. He hadn’t done anything drastic--not that Akira knew of--but he hadn’t been sure and he didn’t want to risk it again. Not after what had happened in the Shido’s palace.

The boy was in bed at the moment, and Akira glanced up to find him glaring at him. It was how he spent most of his time when he wasn’t being forced to help out downstairs.

The phone buzzed again in his hand and he nearly dropped it as he read the message.

we live in a society  
  
Lobsters™  
do you mind if i bring a canvas to work on in my free time?

He resisted the urge to tell him he could work on a nude painting for all he cared if it meant someone else would keep an eye on Goro and he could sleep. Instead he thanked the boy profusely and told him he’d be waiting up in the hideout.

He must have dozed off, his body finally giving in after realizing sleep was so close, because he was woken up by the stairs creaking and he jolted up to find Yusuke setting up a small easel in the corner. Goro was still in bed, apparently asleep himself, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“What was so urgent?” Yusuke asked, voice low as he adjusted his canvas so it was sitting straight.

Akira hesitated. He felt bad about asking just so he could take a nap, but the boy had already come all the way to Yongen… so there was no point in sending him back, right? “Can you just… keep an eye on Goro, please? I _really_ need to sleep and he needs someone to make sure he doesn’t do anything… drastic,” he finished lamely.

“Is that all? I’m sure the others would have agreed if you’d simply explained rather than being so vague about it.”

Akira was glad Yusuke had so much faith in the rest of their teammates but he had a feeling mentioning Goro’s name would have only turned even more of them away. He kept those thoughts to himself and thanked him again before laying down on the couch, turning his back to the boy.

Yusuke just chuckled as he watched Akira fall asleep almost instantly, if the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of the blanket was any indicator. It seemed he hadn’t been exaggerating about not sleeping for a few days.

He began to sketch almost mindlessly, letting his hand drift across the canvas as he glanced at the bed every once in awhile. He wasn’t sure exactly what Akira had meant by ‘do anything drastic’ but it wasn't hard to make an educated guess. And while he was far from _fond_ of Akechi, he wasn’t going to just leave Akira to deal with him on his own. Not after he’d clearly worked so hard to change the boy’s heart and given up so much.

The boy’s back was to him and Yusuke was fairly certain he was awake, even if he didn’t say anything.

“You and I are more alike than I’d realized,” he said, his gaze never leaving the canvas. He didn’t get a response but the way Akechi froze was confirmation enough that he’d heard, and he continued. “I’m sure you know from the coverage of the Madarame case that my mother died when I was young and I was taken in by him. And seeing as you’re part of the police, at least in name, you must know that there was more to it than met the eye.”

Akechi made no move to face him and his voice was raspy and muffled when he finally spoke. “Why are you telling me what you say I already know?”

His hand continued to move as he looked at the boy. “Your mother wanted you dead.”

He rolled over, propping himself up on one arm as he glared weakly at him. “You know nothing about my mother--”

“We saw her in your palace. A cognition, anyway. As well as a younger version of yourself.” Akechi was silent, his mouth set in a scowl. Yusuke set down his pencil and studied the sketch in front of him. “You planned on killing yourself after Shido was taken care of, didn’t you?”

“I don’t need your lecture about how my life is worth something, because it’s _not_ ,” he snarled. “I’ve spent years being told how useless my existence is and how much better off things would be if I were gone, and a single speech from you isn’t going to change that.”

“I never meant for it to--”

“You don’t even really care about me,” he continued. “You only care about Kurusu, and even though I still can’t figure out _why_ , he’s concerned about me. So if something happens to me he’ll be a mess and then you’ll have to deal with _him_.”

Yusuke tried to mask his surprise. Even after seeing so much of Akechi’s palace he couldn’t get used to seeing anything other than the Detective Prince act, even if he knew it was an act. Rather than responding right away he began to mix his paints, blacks and whites and greys. The boy continued to glare at him even as he set up his palette and grabbed his brushes.

“I think you grossly misunderstand Akira’s feelings for you,” he said at last.

“Oh that’s rich, coming from you,” he scoffed. “The artist stuck in his own world all the time who can’t even remember to feed himself most of the time, lecturing me about _feelings_ and _social cues_.”

Yusuke chose to ignore the jab at him and instead swept his brush across the canvas. “You know, I was considering something similar not long ago. I wouldn’t have been the first of Madarame’s pupils to take that route, but something stopped me.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t possibly begin to imagine what it was,” Akechi sneered. “The valiant Phantom Thieves stepping in and saving you?”

“No, this was before Akira came to Tokyo. A few years ago, in fact.” He thought he saw the boy sit up straighter out of the corner of his eye and did his best to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I figured my mother would want me to live, and to keep creating. At first I did it to spite the man that had taken everything from me, but in time I found myself enjoying art again.”

Akechi huffed and fell back on the bed again, burying his face in the pillow. “And you think I should, what, live for my mother’s sake?” he mumbled around it. “Since she didn’t get to? She _killed herself_. And as you so delicately pointed out earlier, she wanted me dead as well.”

“I never said it was meant as advice. Merely… a story, I guess.”

“Pretty shitty one at that,” he muttered.

Yusuke stared at his portrait in lieu of responding and frowned. It felt as though it were missing something. He quickly mixed together some red and added it as an accent and nodded, satisfied once more. It was quite different from his usual works but he hadn’t been able to get the image out of his head since he’d seen it.

He glanced at the still form in the bed and got up, stretching. “I’m going downstairs for a moment, don’t do anything drastic, would you? As you said earlier, Akira cares about you and you care for him as well. You wouldn’t want to upset him, would you?”

Goro kept quiet and waited until the footsteps disappeared before he rolled over again. He wasn’t curious about the painting, he told himself. He’d seen Kitagawa’s works before and wasn’t impressed. But he still found himself sitting up and making sure Kurusu was still asleep before he slipped out of bed and made his way to the canvas.

He scowled at it, turning his head this way and that. He couldn’t make sense of it. It just looked like a mess of black and red.

He was so absorbed in his observations he didn’t even hear Kitagawa coming back until he was in front of him, a glass of water in hand and one eyebrow raised.

“If you’d wanted to see it that badly you simply could’ve asked.”

“It wasn’t that. I was just… thirsty,” he said lamely, it being the first thing to come to mind. It was clear Kitagawa didn’t buy his excuse either.

“Well, I could’ve gotten that for you if you’d just asked, seeing as I just got myself a drink.”

“Bit late for that now,” he said with a huff, crossing his arms. “What the hell is it supposed to be, anyway?”

Kitagawa almost laughed. “I would’ve thought you’d recognize it.”

He bit back another retort. He was in no mood to deal with the boy’s cryptic musings. “I’m getting my water,” he said instead, and shot him a glare for good measure.

Kurusu stirred on the couch and he hurried down the stairs. He was _definitely_ not in the mood to answer his questions.

As he grabbed a glass he found that he couldn’t stop thinking about the painting, the harsh strokes and the almost haphazard placement of them. _I would’ve thought you’d recognize it_. Whatever it was, he was sure he had no idea.

* * *

Akira absentmindedly scrolled through the phone with his good hand as he waited for the dryer to finish its cycle. It was the second time that week he’d done laundry and he was running out of one-handed distractions, so he’d taken to looking through Goro’s phone in case there was something that could be used to help him. Instead Akira found messages from an unlabeled contact that was almost certainly Shido and little else. He wasn’t exactly expecting games, but the only contacts he had were of the rest of the Thieves and nearby restaurants and cafés that delivered. There were also some he didn’t recognize, and based on the contents of the messages they were fans who’d found his number.

The phone buzzed in his hand and his stomach dropped as he realized it was another message from Shido. What had started out as lists of names--no doubt new targets--had quickly become demands to know where he was, and then outright threats. Akira felt sick every time he got a new notification, just further cementing the knowledge that the man had not only turned a fifteen year old into a hitman, but had called for the deaths of him and his friends at the hands of said hitman. And since he’d failed, he was to be killed in their place.

The dryer beeped and he fumbled the phone, nearly dropping it. _Goro really needs more clothes_ , he thought as he dug them out of the machine. _Or at least some of his own that aren’t just my pajamas._

Akira knew he could’ve bought some--he certainly had the money from trips to the metaverse--but that would require taking Goro out, and the boy would never agree to that. He was supposed to be playing dead, too. There was always online shopping but ordering and trying on and returning until the right thing was found was such a hassle. There was a simpler solution in front of him. Goro had been doing just fine on his own until Akira had swooped in and hidden him away, and he’d already proved he was capable of breaking in.

He was mulling over the details as he carried his now-dry clothes back to Leblanc and nearly missed Futaba sitting at the counter, tapping away at her computer and nursing a cup of coffee. They’d gotten the rest of the necessary letters from Shido and, if what she’d said was to be believed, she was working on the calling card because it needed to be a hell of a lot flashier than their past ones. She barely glanced up before doing a double take and frowning.

“I know that look. You’re planning something, and probably something stupid. Where are you sneaking out to now?”

He couldn’t lie to her. Not when she had his phone bugged. “Goro’s apartment.”

She nearly choked on her drink. “What? _Why?_ What was the point in kidnapping him and holding his hostage here if you’re just going back?”

He wanted to argue that they hadn’t _kidnapped Goro_ but he couldn’t completely refute her point. “I want to get some stuff from over there,” he said. “Y’know, clothes, toiletries of his own, maybe some books or something to keep him entertained. I thought maybe the reason he stays in bed all the time is because he doesn’t have anything else to do.”

Akira didn’t believe that at all, he knew the boy wished he were dead and thought starving himself was the easiest way to go, but also that he needed a convincing reason for Futaba to not rat him out to Sojiro.

“Maybe… don’t?” she said, giving him an incredulous look. “You know I’ve been messing with Akechi’s phone since we took it, right?”

“Ah, speaking of that--” He dropped the clothes on one of the tables and dug the phone out of his pocket. “He got another message. Can’t we block the number?”

“We can’t make him suspicious. Er, more suspicious. So no. And you shouldn’t go to his apartment if Shido’s still threatening him like this! His apartment would be the first place he’d look!”

“Which means he’s already done a sweep and didn’t find anything, so now’s the perfect time to go. It’ll be fine, I’ll be careful, _and_ you have all of our phones bugged so if I happen to get kidnapped you’ll be able to find me,” he soothed.

She scowled at him. “That’s not funny.”

“Futaba, please? I feel like the only time I left the shop was for palace infiltration, and now I don’t even have that.”

“That’s ‘cause you insisted on changing his heart,” she grumbled, but he could tell she didn’t have another argument. “Alright,” she said at last, “if you _have_ to go you’ve at least gotta take someone else with you. And Mona doesn’t count!”

“Deal.”

“And be careful, I mean it!”

“Sure thing, _mom_ ,” he teased. “Do you want me home before dark too?”

“You’re an asshole,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

He just grinned and collected his laundry again, and made his way upstairs to find Goro waiting for him.

“It’s boring here,” he said, refusing to look at him.

“I’m working on that. Want to take a trip back to your apartment today?”

“ _Akira!_ ” came a shrill voice from downstairs. “He can’t be the person you bring along!”

“I was gonna ask Ryuji as well!” he yelled back. “So little faith in me,” he muttered to Goro, shaking his head. He flopped back on the couch and grabbed the phone off his desk, already messaging the other boy.

He got a response within a minute and smirked. “He’s meeting us at the station, let’s go.”

The train ride was uneventful, thankfully, nobody recognizing Goro thanks to his haircut and the hat Akira had stuffed on his head, as well as the fact that he hadn’t put on makeup in nearly a week. That had been an interesting discovery. Akira had of course known that the Detective Prince was completely made up, but it was strange to see Goro without a plastic smile and perfect skin. Although him having acne like the rest of them was nothing compared to finding out he was suicidal, and had apparently been for a long time.

They found Ryuji waiting just outside the station and his smile disappeared as he caught sight of the two of them.

“You never said he was coming.”

“He was bored being stuck in the attic all the time, and it’s his apartment.” Akira didn’t mention the fact that he also didn’t trust Futaba alone with the boy. Not after their last conversation. “You’re already all the way out here, are you really going back because of him?”

Ryuji looked as though he were thinking it over and Akira was glad Goro had kept his mouth shut so far. He knew one comment was all it would take to set them both off.

“I’ll come along,” he said after a minute. “But only ‘cause I wanna see what his apartment looks like.”

Akira didn’t particularly care the reason, as long as he had his partner. Not that he was just using him. It had been awhile since he’d gotten to just hang out with his friends, only made worse by the fact that Makoto had been making them go to the palace nearly every day. He knew the rift between him and the rest of them was only growing with each trip they took. He wanted a chance to catch up again. Even if Goro was tagging along as well.

The woman in the office didn’t so much as look at them and they made their way to the fourth floor, where Akira produced his tools again and got to work on the lock while Ryuji kept watch.

“Can’t believe this is the second time you’re breaking in in… what, four days?” he muttered.

“Third, actually,” he said without looking up. “Although I’m not sure that one counts since the window wasn’t even locked when we dropped off the calling card.”

Ryuji just scoffed and shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

He finally heard the telltale click and the door swung open with little resistance, squeaking obnoxiously.

“I wonder what it says about Shido’s interest in my well-being that these locks are so easy to pick,” Goro said almost absentmindedly.

Akira chose to ignore his comment and instead clutched his shoulder. It felt far too much like the last time they’d broken in and the disaster that had followed.

No assailant awaited them and Ryuji hit the lights--and they all froze at the scene that greeted them.

There had obviously been some kind of break-in, with the way things were strewn about the kitchen. The drawers were hanging open and the cabinets weren’t much better. Akira stepped over what looked to be shattered glass and into the living room, which was in a similar state of disrepair. What caught his eye more than the moved furniture and scattered books was the fact that the TV was still there. It wasn’t just some thief looking for quick valuables to pawn. The intruder had been looking for something in particular.

Goro’s movements were stilted as he walked further into the apartment, and Akira and Ryuji watched as he dug through a trash can in the corner.

“What’s so important about--?”

He got up just as suddenly and rushed to the bedroom without warning, and Akira trailed behind him.

It was easily the worst of the rooms. The closet and the small desk in the corner looked as though they’d been completely dumped out, and the mattress was crooked as if they’d looked underneath it.

Akira had a terrible feeling he understood what had happened as he remembered the messages from Shido, the threats and demands.

Ryuji chose that moment to enter, holding a familiar black and red card that had been torn cleanly down the middle. “Goro Akechi, noble bastard consumed by vengeance,” he read. “We have observed your goal, and despite your methods find ourselves opposed to the outcome. We will not stand by and watch you sacrifice yourself to expose this truth. Expect us. The Phantom Thieves.” He looked up at Akira, his expression somewhere between confused and entertained. “Did you… write this? Did you _draw this?_ ”

He remained silent, focused on Goro. The boy was still looking around desperately, although it was clear what he was looking for wasn’t there.

“It’s gone,” he mumbled, falling to his knees. “ _It’s gone_.”

Akira didn’t dare touch him but squatted beside him. “What’s gone?” he asked quietly.

“M-My laptop, it had everything on it-- Lists of targets, people connected to Shido, video recordings--! It’s all gone,” he repeated. “He… He sent someone after me and they must’ve found the calling card. He thought I’d been compromised and…” A broken sob escaped him.

“What’s gonna happen now that he has all that information?” Ryuji asked.

“I… I password protected everything, hid it all under meaningless folders. I doubt he’ll be able to actually access any of it.”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

“It was all I had… Everything I’d ever collected on him was on that computer. Two years of fighting for even a blurry photo or a list of names, just _gone_ in an instant.”

Akira cleared his throat. “Hey, it’s okay--”

“What if I’d been _here_?” he asked in a horrified whisper. “I knew he saw me as expendable. I was far from the only person who could access the metaverse, and he could always force a persona out of someone else if it came to that. I’m proof it’s possible. I… I was just the closest to him, the easiest to manipulate.”

It was the most Akira had heard him speak in a week--and for entirely the wrong reason.

“I thought I had _time_ ,” he continued, voice laced with panic.. “At least until after the election! But if I were here when they broke in… They would’ve…”

“Killed you,” Ryuji finished, and the boy violently flinched.

Akira got to his feet and nudged Ryuji. “Let’s give him some space.”

The boy protested but Akira just dragged him back to the living room. He moved some books off of the couch and flopped back, running a hand through his hair. He’d meant for Goro to pick out a few things to bring back to Leblanc but instead he was having a panic attack in the bedroom.

 _Guess I’ll have to do my best to just get stuff on my own_ , he thought wearily.

The apartment was _so bare_ , he realized as he sorted through the mess. It looked like a lot when it was all spread out, but he had a feeling if the bookshelf were organized and the furniture back in place it would resemble one of those catalogs Ann had showed him. He couldn’t even remember what his room had looked like before he’d filled it with gifts from his friends, giving it that personal touch.

The books in question seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them, ranging from science fiction novels to Shakespere, and none of them looked as though they’d been touched in a long time. He had no idea what Goro’s taste in media was either. He grabbed something at random and stuffed it in his bag before moving on to the kitchen, where he found Ryuji looking through the fridge.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, in more of a hiss than anything. “He’s got _nothing_ , just frozen instant meals and bottled water and a shit ton of numbers for takeout. He’s even got notes on them!”

Akira glanced at the notepad stuck to the side and was greeted with Goro’s handwriting.

_\- Added a note because I’ve been ordering a lot--need to switch things up_  
_\- Doesn’t question leaving food outside, good service_  
_\- One of their delivery drivers is very chatty and tries to talk to me through the door--need find out her name and request someone else_

“Oh, Goro,” he murmured. He turned back to the boy and sighed. “I’m almost done, can you check the bathroom and see if there’s anything we should bring back? He’s got a toothbrush already, I guess just anything that really stands out.”

From there he made his way to the bedroom, where Goro was still trying to muffle his cries. He looked so small, and so much like Futaba had in the past.

 _Maybe that’s a good thing_ , he thought weakly. _She’s doing much better now, which means it’s possible for him to change too._

He knew it was the change of heart that had caused the shift in behavior in both of them, that he was just deluding himself, and not even well. But he had a feeling that if he didn’t convince himself that there was hope for Goro, and that everything he’d sacrificed to get to that point wasn’t all for nothing, he’d go insane.

“Hey, we’re almost ready to leave,” he said quietly, trying not to startle the boy. “Do you want to pick out some clothes to bring back?”

He felt as though he were talking to a child and his stomach churned. Everything had gone so wrong in a matter of hours. He’d been doing _better_ , he’d been at least responding to people when spoken to!

Goro gave no indicator he’d even heard and Akira groaned. He scooped up clothes at random and shoved them in the bag, doing his best to ignore the boy crying on the floor. He found a few wrinkled tee shirts shoved in one of the drawers, the logos long since faded. He couldn’t picture Goro wearing anything other than a sweater vest but he added them to the pile.

“C’mon Goro,” he said, “let’s go back to Leblanc.”

He made no move to get up and Akira curled his hands into fists. “Goro, _please_ \--”

Ryuji came back at that moment, holding an armful of small bottles he must’ve grabbed from the bathroom. “I have no idea what any of these are so you can go through them.”

Goro wiped at his eyes and straightened up, and Akira had to fight back nervous laughter at the fact that he was okay with being vulnerable around him, but drew the line at Ryuji. He wasn’t laughing as he realized there were orange bottles mixed in with the tubes of concealer and whatnot.

“Were you supposed to be taking these?” he demanded. “Goro, oh my god--”

 _Was he missing doses? Is that why the change of heart looks this way?_ he wondered in horror. _Is it my fault because I didn’t have him bring anything back sooner?_

“We… We should get back,” he said again. “We can deal with this later.”

Goro didn’t speak but followed him out of the apartment and he thanked whatever god existed for that.

Akira waited until they were on the train and nobody was paying attention to them before he rummaged through the bag. He kept his voice low as he showed his haul to Goro, who barely even looked at him. He’d stopped crying but Akira knew it was just a front. He had a sinking feeling Goro was going to wind up crawling back in bed once they reached Leblanc and the last week of progress was going to have been for naught.

“I, er-- I got some clothes of course, and Ryuji grabbed stuff from the bathroom. I figured you already have that toothbrush at Leblanc so I told him not to bother with that, but, um, the prescription bottles of course--” Goro turned away and Akira thought he saw his jaw twitch but his expression betrayed nothing. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, digging out the book he’d grabbed. Upon closer inspection he realized it was some stuffy poetry anthology and he was about to just give up when Goro grabbed it from him, his movements tense. Akira was terrified he’d done something wrong but instead the boy’s shoulders shook and it took him a moment to realize he was _laughing_.

“Of _course_ you’d have the devil’s own luck,” he muttered, gripping the book with white knuckles.

Akira looked closer at the book and realized the cover had slid, revealing colors underneath that didn’t match the pretentious sounding title, and he realized it was a fake. He nearly laughed himself as he realized it was a volume of manga from some Featherman spinoff. He wanted to ask why he felt the need to disguise it in his own apartment, but didn’t get a chance as Goro’s laughter continued, and then turned into sobs again.

He glanced between Ryuji and the strangers now staring at them, and reached out to awkwardly rub Goro’s back.

Before Akira could give an excuse or ask people to kindly look away, Ryuji opened his mouth and said, “His mom died.”

“ _Ryuji_ ,” he hissed, and Goro just cried harder.

The people at least seemed uncomfortable and looked away.

Akira sighed and slumped down in the seat. He had a feeling it was going to be a very long ride back to Yongen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I promise I'll give this a hopeful end," I tell all my readers, actively making things worse every time I open up the doc.
> 
> You guys didn't think I was so cruel as to not _actually_ tell you what was on the calling card, did you?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Goro signed his life away when he was fifteen because he had no other options. You weren’t there, Haru, you didn’t see him in the palace. There were cognitions throughout the whole thing, versions of _himself_. He’s so torn between different aspects of his life--The one in the car with his first mental shutdown was pleading for us not to hurt him, going on and on about how he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen--!”
> 
> “Is he showing any of that remorse now?” she interrupted. “Has he said even once that he regrets his decision?”
> 
> “No, but you’ve seen him--”
> 
> “I haven’t seen much of him since you brought him back here,” she continued, “but it almost seems as though he’s not even the same person. Why are you so insistent on defending what might as well be a stranger?”

Akira hadn’t thought it possible for Goro to leave the bed even less, but he seemed intent on proving him wrong after what had happened at his apartment. The boy turned down any and all meals Akira offered him, and seemed to be trying to sleep as much of the day away as possible. Akira had a feeling it was less due to the fact that he’d never had so much free time before, his every minute of every day filled by schoolwork and tasks from Shido and keeping up appearances as the Detective Prince, and more that sleeping and waiting for time to pass was as close to being dead as he could get since Akira wouldn’t grant his wish.

He glanced at the boy in bed and groaned. He could let the greasy hair slide but it was clear Goro wasn’t going to take care of himself, and thus it fell to him.

 _This is not what I signed up for when I agreed to change your heart_ , he thought sourly.

“Hey Goro, why don’t we go to the bathhouse? I don’t know about you but I’m stressed about all this deadline business and I could use a soak, and it’s sure to be nearly empty at this time of day--”

“You can go without me,” he mumbled without turning around.

His hands clenched into fists and he put on the best smile he could muster. “No, actually, you’re coming with me.”

The boy rolled over and smiled sweetly in return. “No, I’m not--”

Akira practically lunged forward and dragged him out of the bed and towards the stairs. “I’m so sick of this,” he snapped, ignoring Goro’s protests. “I’ve given up _so much_ to try and help you, and what have you given me in return? A knife to the shoulder!” He wrenched the boy forward and they finally reached the shop, where Ryuji, Yusuke, and Haru stared at them.

“Akira,” the girl said stiffly, nodding at him.

He looked between the three of them. “What’s going on here?”

“Waiting for the others so we can watch the votes come in and wait for his change of heart, and for this nightmare to finally end,” Ryuji said, refusing to look at him.

 _Without me?_ He swallowed thickly and tried to mask his surprise. “Sounds good. Goro and I were just going to the bathhouse, maybe when we get back they’ll have finished counting and--”

“Can I speak to you?” Haru asked suddenly. “Alone?”

He cast a glance behind him, where the boy was studying them with a bored looking expression.

“...Goro, go on ahead without me. I’ll be right over.”

He just huffed and did as he was told, and Akira hoped he was actually going to the bathhouse and not making a break for the station or anything.

He slid into the booth across from her and took a deep breath, doing his best not to wilt under their stares. “What’s up?”

“Why are you still bothering with him?”

“Not holdin’ anything back, huh?” Ryuji muttered.

The girl cleared her throat. “That came across… wrong. What I meant to say was why haven’t you let him confess to the authorities? I’ve heard it’s all he wants to do.”

 _It’s not the only thing_ , Akira thought bitterly. “That was what he wanted from the start. There would be no point in working this hard and then letting him go through with it anyway. This way we can prove to him that he doesn’t need to throw his life away for no reason.”

“He’s a murderer, Akira,” she said pointedly.

“I acknowledge that he carried out the tasks, but they were all Shido’s orders. He was the one pulling the strings. Had Goro refused he would’ve been killed instead. Can you really expect a child to make that decision?”

All three of them averted their gazes and it took Haru a moment to answer. “I’m the same age as him and I’ve had to make all sorts of difficult decisions for the good of the company,” she said carefully.

“That’s deciding which kind of napkins to use at your newest chain burger joint,” he snapped. “Goro signed his life away when he was fifteen because he had no other options. You weren’t there, Haru, you didn’t see him in the palace. There were cognitions throughout the whole thing, versions of _himself_. He’s so torn between different aspects of his life--The one in the car with his first mental shutdown was pleading for us not to hurt him, going on and on about how he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen--!”

“Is he showing any of that remorse now?” she interrupted. “Has he said even once that he regrets his decision?”

“No, but you’ve seen him--”

“I haven’t seen much of him since you brought him back here,” she continued, “but it almost seems as though he’s not even the same person. Why are you so insistent on defending what might as well be a stranger?”

“Why do you hate him?” Akira asked through grit teeth, unable to keep his hands from shaking.

The girl sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t hate him.”

“Your father’s death was truly tragic but if he’d survived you would’ve felt obligated to care for him and continued to live under his thumb, and-- Wait, what?”

“I don’t hate him,” she repeated. “I want to, you know. I want to hate him--” She inhaled sharply. “--so _fucking_ badly, and I know that I _should_ , but there’s nothing left of him to hate. It hurts more than anything, to see my father’s killer reduced to such a state. To know I’ll never be able to hate him more than he hates himself.”

Akira tried to speak but found himself at a loss for words, and tension hung so thick in the air he was practically choking on it.

Then the spell was broken as the bell above the door rang and Futaba bounded in, holding her laptop above her head triumphantly. Ann wasn’t far behind her. “Guess who just got the SSR event exclusive item in--! Whoa, who died?”

The other girl elbowed her roughly.

“Akira was just on his way to the bathhouse, I believe,” Haru said sweetly. “I took up more of his time than I’d intended.”

Ryuji and Yusuke kept their heads down as Akira got to his feet. “We’ll have to see if the votes are done being counted when I get back.”

“Don’t rush for our sake,” the girl said, giving him a sidelong glance.

He kept quiet as he left, not trusting himself to reply lest he say something he might later regret, and made his way down the alley.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Goro said without looking up. “I was about to get up and leave.”

“I appreciate you not doing that. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Okumura doesn’t like me.”

It wasn’t a question. Akira froze, one hand on the doorknob.

“Well,” Goro continued, “not that it really matters. I don’t particularly like her either.”

 _I’m… I’m going to have to choose between Goro and the others at this rate_ , he realized, his stomach churning. _If it’s not already too late._

He swallowed back the bile and paid for their things, and found Goro already stripping down. Akira thanked whatever god existed that he seemed to have picked himself up enough to do that, or just wanted to get things over with already. He did the same and sat down at one of the spigots. They’d gotten lucky and they were the only ones there. Akira cast a glance at the boy.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the scars marring Goro’s body, nor just how thin he was, but he felt sick to his stomach as the pieces fell into place and he realized what they were likely from. His palace and his memories painted a clear picture of foster homes and trips to the metaverse gone wrong because he was young and alone, as well as carefully hidden punishments from Shido. His gaze was drawn to the other marks that blended in and were far too precise to have come from someone in a fit of anger.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare, Kurusu?” Goro asked flatly.

He quickly looked away, unable and unwilling to even consider the thought.

His hands shook as he soaped himself up, and he realized Goro had made no move to do the same. It seemed he’d stopped caring about pleasing Akira, if that was why he’d bothered in the first place.

He groaned and grabbed the plastic bucket by his feet, making sure the boy could see him as he filled it. Akira didn’t want to startle him any more. Goro had been so jumpy since they’d gotten back from his apartment a few days ago that Akira was afraid he was going to pull a knife on him again.

He gently poured the water over Goro and the boy tensed but made no move to pull away, and Akira took it as a sign to keep going. He poured some shampoo in his hands and combed his fingers through his hair. Goro jumped as though he’d been shot.

“Hey, it’s okay--” he soothed.

“Don’t touch my hair,” he snarled.

“Okay, I won’t, but you have to wash it yourself then.”

Goro snatched the bottle off the floor and continued to shoot Akira death glares as he washed himself.

Akira just returned to his own faucet. There was so much he wanted to talk about, to ask, but he kept quiet and finished washing his hair before he dared speak up.

“Can we… talk about any of this?”

The look in Goro’s eyes reminded him of a frightened animal, just waiting for the right moment to bolt. “Any of what?”

He bit back a bitter laugh. “God, anything. Shido, your mother, how and why you became a hitman, why you were so set on killing yourself-- _any of it_ is fair game here.”

Goro seemed to study him for a moment before dropping his gaze and going back to washing himself. “Shido is my father,” he said, as if he were discussing the newest café he’d found instead.

It took Akira a second to process the information he’d just been given. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m not saying it again, you heard me,” he grumbled.

“You can’t just-- I thought I knew everything after your palace,” he muttered. “Please just start from the beginning if you’re going to open with that. Please.”

Goro grit his teeth so hard Akira was afraid he’d hear something crack. “He… He discarded my mother once he realized she was pregnant. She was left to raise me on her own and she couldn’t very well ask for _child support_ after he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. So she turned to a life of prostitution to support us, because nobody wants to help a single mother. She must’ve done something _wrong_ if she couldn’t keep her husband. And then…” He swallowed thickly. “And then one day she killed herself, as I’m sure you remember. It was _his_ fault. I was going to make him pay for it. And now I can’t even do that.”

“I… had no idea,” Akira said at last. “Not that it was that bad.”

“No, nobody does,” he said, his tone clipped. “Even I can’t believe it sometimes. I can’t even remember it all, you know. My brain was kind enough to repress _some_ of it. Not the parts that mattered though.”

The realization hit him with all the force of a tidal wave and he couldn’t even begin to hide the horror in his voice. “Your Treasure, it was--”

Goro flinched as though he had an idea of what he was about to say. “It was her note, wasn’t it? Cursing him and me and everyone around her.”

Akira didn’t answer but it was confirmation enough.

They both sat there in silence, the only sound that of the running water, and Goro’s shoulders began to shake. He was afraid the boy was crying again and jumped up but not before Goro spoke again.

“Kitagawa, a few days ago,” he said between choked peals of laughter. “He told me he chose to live for his mother’s sake, to spite the man that had taken so much from him. My mother wanted me _dead_.” Akira watched uncomfortably as he doubled over, wiping away tears. “On more than one occasion I woke up with her hands around my throat and no air in my lungs. Do you know what it does to a child to have their mother flip between actively trying to kill them and realizing what they’ve done and hugging them and apologizing? I wanted nothing to do with her,” he spat, still grinning. “She might as well have still been smothering me with the way she held me, and all I could focus on was the fact that I wanted to get as far away from her as possible.”

Akira didn’t even know how to _begin_ to unpack all of that and just sat there in horrified silence.

“Of course, he told me it was ‘just a story’,” he continued, the laughter finally subsiding. “Well, I told him what I thought of that.”

“You could--” Akira started, scrambling to think of anything before the boy could continue. “Maybe you don’t need to live for her sake but you can find your own reason.”

“I _had_ a reason,” he snapped. “You took it from me.”

Akira distantly remembered his friends back at the shop, waiting for the votes to come in and the press conference that would follow. It was Election Day, and had he and his friends not intervened, the day Goro’s plans would’ve come to fruition, or at least moved into their final phase. “You can find another reason,” he insisted. “Like… I mean…”

“Save your excuses,” Goro muttered. “You think I haven’t already heard them all before?”

 _Things can’t end like this_ , he thought frantically. _Not on this awful note._ But every time he tried to offer up some kind of advice or even just talk to the boy it seemed to end in disaster.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Like some kind of kicked puppy.” He got up suddenly. “I’m going to the main bath, since it’s clear you don’t trust me alone with your friends. Come let me know when we’re leaving.”

Then he was gone and Akira was left to sort through everything he’d just learned in such a short span of time.

 _It wasn’t just about taking down a shitty politician_ , he realized, his stomach sinking. _Of course there was more to it than that. Of course it had to do with his father_.

He rinsed himself off one more time and tried to push those thoughts aside as he gathered his things and made his way to the bath. But he couldn’t completely silence the voice that wondered if changing Goro’s heart had been the right choice after all.

* * *

“Do you want to play a game of chess?” Akira asked, propping himself up on one arm. “We haven’t played in forever and I’ve learned some new strategies since then.”

The boy in bed gave no indicator he’d even heard. “How about we watch a movie or something? Futaba makes copies of everything I rent so I’ve got a pretty decent collection, if I do say so myself.”

“Give it up, Kurusu,” he said flatly.

Akira resisted the urge to throw something at him. “Then do you want to go for a walk around the backstreets? We could check out the shops and--”

“I said _give it up_ ,” Goro repeated, harsher.

He got to his feet and made it two steps across the floor before he froze, voices from downstairs drifting, quiet enough that he couldn’t make out the words but there all the same. It seemed the shop had customers for once. He needed to behave. “Why don’t we do _something_ then? Anything besides wasting away in this stupid attic?”

“I _had_ something I’d wanted to do, but you took it from me,” he snapped. “And since you won’t even let me die, my only option seems to be _wasting away in this stupid attic_ , as you put it.”

Akira practically fell back at the desk to stop himself from wringing the boy’s neck. Morgana, who he’d thought had been asleep, cracked open one eye and he stroked the cat with his good hand, letting the motions calm him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Goro had told him the day before, about Shido and his mother.

 _I can’t even tell if he’s getting better anymore,_ he thought wearily. _He isn’t taking those prescriptions but he said he wasn’t doing that even before I dragged him here._

“What if we--”

“Akira,” said a stern voice, and he found Morgana staring at him. “Maybe… Maybe it’s time to give up,” he said quietly. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” he mumbled, putting his head in his hands. “I… I was the one who’d insisted on changing his heart and now he’s turned out like this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kurusu,” came a weak voice from the bed. “I’d _always_ planned on killing myself.”

That was it. Akira jumped up, his whole body trembling as he wrapped a hand in the collar of Goro’s shirt and pulled him closer. The boy went limp in his grasp but _something_ flashed in his eyes, although whether it was fear or anger Akira couldn’t tell.

“I have given up _everything_ for you,” he hissed, struggling to keep his voice down. “I’ve probably destroyed Sojiro’s trust in me forever with the way I brought you here without warning and with how you’ve been treating Futaba, most of my friends won’t even _look at me_ , let alone hear me out, and thanks to that _knife_ of yours my arm is now permanently fucked up.”

Goro had the audacity to laugh. “I never asked for any of this. I was perfectly content to get Shido put away and then kill myself, but you had to play the hero and stick your nose where it--”

His words cut off just as suddenly and before Akira even knew what was happening his hands were around the boy’s throat instead. Recognition flashed in his eyes, which quickly turned to fear, and he gave a desperate cough.

“ _Akira!_ ” Morgana yelled, hackles raised.

He let go just as suddenly and Goro fell back on the bed and coughed weakly, rubbing his throat.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he stammered, whipping around to face the cat that was no longer there.

“ _Hey!_ ” Sojiro yelled from downstairs. “ _How many times have I told you to keep your cat out of the shop while it’s open?_ ”

The man continued but Akira couldn’t understand. It sounded as though he were listening from underwater, everything distorted and with a constant pressure in his head. He stumbled back, his hands shaking as he realized what he’d just done. _Oh god, oh god, **oh god** \-- My probation, I just attacked someone, I’m going to juvie--! No, worse than that, they’ll figure out I’m the leader of the Phantom Thieves again and kill me for sure this time--!_

Footsteps thundered up the steps and Sojiro froze as he took in the scene before him, Goro gasping for breath and Akira trembling on the floor, staring at his hands and mumbling to himself. The boy’s head snapped up and the look he gave Sojiro nearly made him take a step back. He’d never seen the boy look so scared--not when he’d first arrived in an unfamiliar city with everyone against him, not when Sojiro had found the calling card in Futaba’s room and learned their secret, and not even when he’d learned that the boy in front of them was planning to kill him.

It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened but he didn’t want to ask that question and confirm his suspicions.

“Downstairs,” he said lowly. “Now.”

Akira flinched violently. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. “I-I-I’ll--”

The man was already gone and he heard him talking, likely telling the customers to leave because the police were on their way. He dragged himself to his feet and cast a furtive glance at Goro, who still looked shaken. He knew what was going on too.

Sojiro was waiting for him at the counter and gestured to the seat next to him. Akira cautiously took a seat and left a chair between them, and the man gave him a look but didn’t say anything.

“Kid, what the hell is going on?” he said at last.

“Please… Please don’t turn me in,” Akira mumbled, his voice shaking.

“Turn you--?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he insisted, his nails digging into his arms. “I-I guess in that moment I did but I regretted it immediately and-- and all I could think of was my probation and how I was _so close_ and--”

“I’m not going to call the cops on you.”

His head whipped up and he fought back tears. “...You’re not?”

“On one condition.”

Akira winced. “Yeah?”

“Tell me what happened. Why your friends have stopped asking for you when they come around, why Futaba can barely stand to be in the shop anymore, why the cat’s sleeping at my house. I know it has something to do with _him_ but I don’t understand why one more teenager crashing here has caused such a fuss.”

He bit his lip so hard he was surprised he didn’t taste blood as he tried to compose his thoughts. He had no idea where he was even supposed to begin, so much had happened in the past month. “I guess it started when we found out he had a palace at all,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I was the only one who’d wanted to change his heart, but from the beginning we’d decided targets needed to be chosen based on unanimous decision. But how was I supposed to let my friend suffer when I knew he had a palace in the first place?”

He did his best to explain it all, backtracking at times as he could barely keep it straight in his own head, let alone explain it to someone who only understood the basics of the metaverse. He wasn’t sure when the tears started but once they did he couldn’t stop them, especially as he recounted how he’d steadily lost more and more of his team and he wasn’t sure how to get them back when they wouldn’t even listen to him.

“I just wanted to help him,” he whimpered as he reached the end. “I never meant for things to get this bad.”

Sojiro stood up and he curled tighter in on himself, but instead of a blow he found a pair of arms wrapped around him. “Akira,” the man said, and he picked up his head. “You have a good heart. You really did just want to help him. There was no way of knowing things would turn out like this.”

He cried even harder and hugged him back. It was the first time someone had told him he was doing the right thing, not just in terms of changing Goro’s heart but _all of their work_. They’d always second guessed themselves, wondering if their work was just at all or if it was simply self-gratification, getting back at people who’d hurt them.

“It’s okay,” Sojiro soothed. “You’re gonna get through this. I’ll make your friends sit here and listen to you if I have to, dammit. You’ve made more connections this year than someone who’s lived in Tokyo their whole life and I’m not letting you just throw that all away.”

Akira wiped at his eyes and laughed shakily, the shame setting in since the moment ended. “I, uh-- I think I--”

“Tell that kid to come down here, would you? I’ve got a few words to say to him too.”

Akira wasn’t sure who he pitied more, Goro or Sojiro, that they’d have to face the other’s sharp tongue. “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

He made his way upstairs and found Goro studying the shelves covered in souvenirs, and doing his best not to look at him.

“Sojiro wants to talk to you. And before you say you’re not going,” he said as the boy opened his mouth to respond, “he’ll probably drag you down there himself if you don’t go down on your own.”

Goro gave a sigh of disgust and shuffled downstairs, and Akira sat on the edge of the bed. He’d wanted to thank Sojiro but couldn’t find the right words.

 _I’ll find a way to make it up to him_ , he thought determinedly. _Him and everyone else, to make up for all the trouble I’ve caused_.

Maybe he could start with coffee and curry as a peace offering.

* * *

“We’re here!” came a yell as the bell above the door rang sharply and Futaba bounded in, Ryuji right on her heels. “And we come bearing absolutely nothing because it’s not Christmas yet and you people have to wait!”

Akira gave a small smile from his spot in the kitchen and he leaned out just enough to catch sight of the decorations Haru and Ann had hung up. The café had been transformed with garlands and paper snowflakes, and judging by the look of it Ryuji had brought a string of lights as well.

“Ryuji, if you’re going to put those up just make sure they don’t hang low enough for customers to reach,” Akira called.

“What customers?” he scoffed.

“I’m telling Sojiro you said that,” Futaba said without looking up from her phone, and the boy paled.

It had been difficult to convince everyone to come together but they’d eventually decided to combine their Christmas party and their celebration for successfully changing Shido’s heart, seeing as some already had plans for the holiday. He was admittedly nervous about being with everyone after what they’d been through in the past month, but excited nonetheless.

“Your curry, Kurusu,” came a dry voice from the corner.

“Oh, _shit_ \--”

He lowered the flames and stirred at the pot, occasionally casting glances back at Goro. He was sitting alone in a booth and half-heartedly paying attention to some book Akira must’ve left laying around.

“Oh, it’s on!” someone cried. “Turn it up, turn it up!”

The newscaster’s voice filled the small space as someone grabbed the remote and Akira looked away long enough to catch the scrolling headline: _Masayoshi Shido Convicted, No News of a New Prime Minister._

“I can’t believe Makoto’s missing this,” Futaba whined.

“She said she was doing something with her sister, if I remember correctly,” Haru said. “Mako-chan promised she’d be over as soon as she could.”

Akira had a feeling she was just avoiding him and Goro but didn’t dare voice his suspicions. Not when they were all there together to celebrate. He considered it a miracle enough that Haru had agreed, and that nobody had picked a fight with Goro yet. He wasn’t taunting any of them either and they found themselves in an uneasy sort of balance. Even if that balance was maintained by most of them pretending the boy didn’t exist.

“Dinner is served,” he said loudly, balancing plates along his arms.

“Curry time!” Futaba cheered, pounding the table. “Cur-ry! Cur-ry!”

“Please tell me you went easy on the spices this time,” Ryuji bemoaned.

“ _No_ ,” Akira said, placing the plate in front of him with a sly grin. “This is all part of my elaborate murder plot to get back at you all without dirtying my hands.”

The boy glanced between him and the plate before slowly pushing it away. “I, uh, I already ate--”

“More for me,” Futaba said, already reaching for it, but Akira swatted her hand away and gave her a plate of her own.

“We’ll see if he changes his mind once he sees everyone else decidedly not choking and dying.”

The bell above the door rang, although he barely heard it over the still-playing television and everyone’s chatter, and Makoto took a seat at the counter. She didn’t acknowledge Goro but nodded towards Akira, and he nodded in return and slid a plate towards her.

Futaba was eagerly showing the others something on her laptop and Akira had a feeling it was either news about Shido or some kind of game trailer, judging by the noise and her reaction. He finished serving everyone and took a seat at the counter himself, keeping ample distance from Makoto.

He waited until everyone was eating before he stood up and cleared his throat. Futaba paused her video but made no move to close the device and the others gave him uncertain looks, and he began to regret his decision.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since everything happened, between playing dead and my injury,” he started. Goro winced in his booth, barely noticeable, but Akira caught it and continued before someone could bring it up. “Makoto.”

The girl kept her expression neutral but Akira could see the way she was gnawing at her lip, and was surprised it wasn’t bleeding yet.

“I never should have pulled rank as the leader when it’s true we implemented the unanimous decision rule for a reason. And I know it’s not an excuse but I just couldn't stand the thought of knowing Goro had a palace and not doing anything about it. And Haru, I should’ve thought more about your feelings when it came to choosing Goro as a target. I understand what he’s done and there’s no taking that back. I should’ve been more considerate of your feelings, and Futaba’s as well.”

“Akira, don’t do this,” Ann said softly. “Not now.”

“As for the rest of you, I… I lost myself the farther we got into the palace. I never should’ve forced you guys to continue. I shouldn’t have paid more attention to the cognitions of Goro than you, _my friends_ , when you were clearly suffering.”

Goro stiffened and Akira realized they hadn’t actually talked about his palace yet, not after everything that had happened. He wasn’t sure how much the boy knew of it but judging by his reaction, not a lot. It was at least clear that he’d never been to it himself, the way Futaba had.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you all past your limits. I… I shouldn’t have done a lot of things I ended up doing,” he said, bowing his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. A-And I understand if you can’t trust me again after everything that’s happened, and I won’t blame you, but I’d still like to make it up to you somehow if I can.”

Silence hung in the air as he finished, the only sound that of the water boiling for the coffee. Akira was about to just sit down and accept the awkwardness when Goro got up as well and he froze, but the boy just poured himself another cup.

“Oh, can you bring it over here?” Ann called, and everyone shot her a look. “What?” she said with a half-shrug. “He was already up, wasn’t he?”

 _Please don’t dump it on her_ , Akira silently begged as Goro did as he was asked. He just poured her a cup and hovered a moment, seemingly waiting to see if anyone else would speak up. When they didn’t he returned back to his booth and his book.

Makoto got up a moment later and grabbed the pot for herself.

“I’d like some as well,” Haru said, raising her cup.

Akira glanced at Goro and thought he saw his jaw twitch but he didn’t say anything.

He sat at the booth between the two groups and tried to focus on their conversations but found it difficult, especially as his friends’ changed rapidly, from talking about Shido to the holidays to how they were planning a gift exchange at a later date, once things settled down. He kept sneaking looks back at Goro but if he was bothered by the exclusion, he didn’t show it.

The boy closed his book and got up without warning, and Akira thought he was just going to refill his coffee again-- _Maybe I should cut him off_ , he thought distantly--when Goro came to their table instead. He looked somewhat pained to be in their presence but he coughed into his fist and kept a white knuckled grip on the book as the conversation slowly tapered off.

“Kunikazu Okumura and Wakaba Isshiki both did terrible things in their lifetimes and I will not apologize for ridding the world of their crimes,” he said curtly.

Akira glanced between Haru and Futaba, afraid he was going to have to hold one of them back.

“However, I know all too well what it’s like to lose a parent, and it’s… regrettable that the two of you had to experience such a thing.”

They all watched in stunned silence as he left without another word and disappeared up the stairs.

Ryuji was the first to speak up again. “...That just happened, right?”

“Who does he think he is, that he can just say such a thing and leave?” Haru demanded.

“We should’ve let him turn himself in to the police,” Makoto mutterd.

“H-Hey, we shouldn’t let that taint the mood of the party,” Ann said. “Haru, didn’t you say that you’d brought dessert?”

“Of course,” she said, getting up suddenly.

Akira tried to process what just happened. He wasn’t going to defend Goro, not in front of everyone--he wasn’t even sure he could defend his actions anymore--but knew he needed to talk to the boy later. And more than that, Ann had been consistently sticking up for the boy in small ways throughout the night.

Things were stilted after Goro’s declaration and before long people started packing up, with Yusuke needing to catch the train back to Kosei and the others home.

“I’ll walk you to the station,” Haru said. “It’s going to be some time before my driver arrives, anyway.”

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Akira said. “There’s no need to stand out in the cold while you wait for him.”

“I’d like to look at the shops,” she said, more insistent, and he knew she just didn’t want to be with him and Goro.

“...Get home safe.”

Everyone said their goodbyes and promised to meet up to exchange gifts after the holidays, and then he was alone in the shop.

It… could’ve gone worse, he decided at last. It could’ve gone a hell of a lot worse. Nobody had picked a fight, and despite the tension he was pretty sure the others enjoyed themselves.

He surveyed the mess left behind and debated for only a moment before sending a quick message to Futaba begging her to tell Sojiro he’d deal with it in the morning. He was in no mood to deal with cleanup duty. Not when he had something more important to do.

He dragged himself upstairs and found Goro in bed, book open on his chest, and Akira realized he was actually asleep and not just moping. He tried to get ready for bed himself quietly but Goro stirred anyway, and rolled over to give him a sour look. It wasn’t very threatening when his hair was a mess and he was yawning.

“Did they finally leave? Your friends are _exhausting_ and they weren’t even paying attention to me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t even imagine being part of your group again.”

He couldn’t bite back the question anymore if the boy was already awake. “Why did you--?”

“You gave your whole speech and you looked so pathetic, and they didn’t so much as clap at the end of it. I figured I wouldn’t let you suffer alone. It’s not as though I was lying, anyway.”

“Then…” Akira remembered his conversation with Haru not even a week ago, about whether Goro had shown any remorse at all for what he’d done.

“Don’t look too much into it, Kurusu,” he said through another yawn. “And shut off the light already if you’re done, it’s late and I _was_ sleeping before you woke me up.”

He wanted to ask how he was possibly tired after as much coffee as he’d drank. Instead he did as the boy asked and lay back on the couch, staring at the glow in the dark stars stuck on the ceiling. “You know, I didn’t get to make all of my apologies downstairs.”

Goro didn’t respond but Akira knew he wasn’t asleep yet by the way he remained perfectly still on the bed, waiting.

“I owed all of them an apology and an explanation. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for some of what I did in your palace,” he said quietly. “But… I think you deserve one more than any of them. You were right when you said we hadn’t asked before we entered your palace and changed your psyche without your say. I’m sure there were things you wanted to keep private, and we--”

“Kurusu,” he said flatly. “Stop talking.”

“But it was wrong of us!” he cried. “You weren’t just some target to us. Not to me, anyway. I… I’m sure you heard that none of them even wanted to. Although I’m sure you knew that by now from the way they’ve treated you,” he mumbled. “We shouldn’t have done what we did. And I’m sorry. And I’m sorry on their behalf as well, because I’m sure they’ll never say it.”

The boy was silent but Akira continued before he could lose his nerve.

“You… You have every right to be angry. And it shouldn’t have taken me this long to apologize. I’m sorry, Goro. I’m so, _so_ sorry. For… For everything, both inside the palace and out,” he said, his voice wavering. “And I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, or see me again. I can’t hold you captive here anymore. If… If you want to go back to your apartment you can tomorrow. And whatever happens after that…” He swallowed thickly. “I’ll understand.”

The boy didn’t respond and he gave it a minute before he hesitantly asked, “...Are you asleep?”

Goro wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to let the other know that. He heard Kurusu laugh bitterly, more to himself, and roll over on the couch.

“Whatever,” Kurusu muttered. “I said my piece and that’s what matters, even if you won’t bother listening.”

Goro waited until he heard the boy’s breathing even out before he let himself relax. His thoughts raced as he tried to process everything Kurusu had just said. He should’ve been overjoyed. He wasn’t going to be stuck sleeping on milk crates anymore. But… he hesitated.

 _I don’t want to go back to my apartment_ , he thought, struggling to keep his breathing even. _Not when Shido’s men might still be looking for me._

The man himself had been convicted but Goro wasn’t an idiot. He knew the Conspiracy wouldn’t just disappear overnight. People would still be looking for him. People would still be out to--

 _Kill me_. He swallowed thickly. Pain no longer scared him, not after he’d gotten a persona tortured out of him. But _death_ was something else entirely. Death meant he wouldn’t get to carry out his plans. Meant he wouldn’t get to do _anything_. For so long he’d thought he was okay with dying if it meant he accomplished his goal. But at that moment--

 _I… I don’t want to die_ , he realized in horror.

* * *

While things were far from perfect, something seemed to have changed in Goro after that night. Akira wasn’t sure if he was _happier_ per se, but he seemed to be making an attempt to live his life rather than waste away in Leblanc’s attic.

He’d actually gotten an apartment on the outskirts of Shinjuku instead of near Akasaka Mitsuke, near the TV station and the Diet building. It was somehow smaller than his previous one but he didn’t seem to mind. The place was entirely his, not paid for or monitored by Shido or any of his men.

He’d also invested in better locks for his doors and windows, having learned after three break-ins.

But it wasn’t just the space of his own. Goro occasionally agreed to the outings Ann suggested, although he complained the entire time, and he’d talk with Yusuke or even Morgana if they happened to be in the shop. The latter often compared their experiences in the metaverse.

Goro stopped by Leblanc often and helped out whenever he could, though mostly with dishes because he still couldn’t cook, despite Akira’s attempts at teaching him. He’d said it was because he always repaid his debts, and Sojiro wasn’t going to turn down his offer after Akira had all but held him hostage in the shop for a few weeks.

That particular day they were in Kichijoji, window shopping as they idly made their way towards Penguin Sniper. It was the first time Goro had been back since before everything had happened and he was trying and failing to contain his excitement. Akira found it adorable, the way he allowed himself to be more expressive without Shido’s threats hanging over him.

The man had gotten a life sentence since he’d confessed, and had revealed the names of a large portion of the men under him as well. Goro’s name had been among them but Shido had admitted he’d been using the boy since he was fifteen, and Sae had done everything in her power to keep that part under wraps. The last thing Goro needed was more media attention.

“I can’t believe I won’t even be able to see the cherry blossoms before I go back home,” Akira whined.

“I’d have thought you’d have more of them back in whatever backwoods town you came from than we do here,” Goro said without looking away from the display that had his attention.

“I mean, yeah, but it’s not the same. I wanted to see them with you guys.”

“Then you’ll just have to come back next month, won’t you?”

Akira gasped dramatically and clutched his chest. “Goro, are you saying you’d like to see me again?”

“I was under the impression I’d be seeing you again regardless of my thoughts on the matter. You’re something of a parasite at this point.”

“I’m wounded!” he cried.

“You’ll live,” the boy scoffed. “Somehow you always do.”

He grinned and tightrope-walked his way along the curb. “Hey, Goro?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna be okay when I’m gone?” he asked, sounding more serious than he had a moment ago.

“Wh-What?” the boy spluttered. “Where did that come from?”

“Well, you’re not _great_ at talking to others--”

“I am perfectly fine!” he protested.

“And I just didn’t want you to fall back into your old habits as soon as you didn’t have me watching over you.”

“Kurusu, I assure you I can take care of myself,” he said sharply.

Akira kept quiet and continued his acrobatic act as they made their way down the streets. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he said out of nowhere.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Goro said as he studied the shops they passed with mild interest.

“About what Yusuke told you, about your reason to live and your mother.” Goro bristled next to him and he continued before the boy could tell him to drop it. “He said part of the reason he kept living was to spite Madarame, right? Maybe you can live to spite Shido, who’s going to be locked up for the rest of his life.”

“And what exactly would that accomplish?”

The boy looked down at him from his perch, his head cocked to one side. “You can be happy and prove to him that he didn’t ruin your life. Not entirely, anyway.”

“Not like he’d ever know,” Goro muttered. “Since, as you mentioned, he’s rotting behind bars.”

Akira cast a glance over his shoulder before grinning and Goro gave him a wary look. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t even--”

He climbed up on the sofa in front of the furniture shop and cupped his hands around his mouth. “ _FUCK MASAYOSHI SHIDO!_ ” he yelled as loud as he could.

“ _Get down from there_ ,” Goro hissed as an employee came out looking absolutely furious.

Akira grabbed his arm and they both ran, weaving between people and ducking into alleys until they couldn’t hear the man yelling anymore. “Well?” Akira asked, laughing as he gasped for breath.

It was so absurd Goro couldn’t help but do the same. “Fuck Masayoshi Shido indeed,” he said.

They both doubled over and Akira grinned. “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you really laugh.”

“I think that’s the first time I’ve laughed like that in years,” Goro admitted, and snorted.

The two of them froze and Akira met Goro’s horrified gaze. “Oh my _god_ ,” he said. “Is that your real laugh, and not the fake one you put on for TV?”

“Sh-Shut up!”

They both laughed even harder and Goro tried to stifle his to no avail.

It wasn’t very dignified or befitting of an idol, Akira realized, but that was sort of beautiful in and of itself. After so many years of pretending to be everything he wasn’t, Goro could finally just be himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE. OH MY GOD IT'S DONE. 
> 
> This would never have been possible without the help of so many people.
> 
> Stormy, Space, Saph, K, Liza, and countless others for letting me scream at unholy hours whenever I got stuck, and inevitably pointing out a simple solution such as, "Not everything has to be sad, Grace."
> 
> Viktor and Crown, for beta-ing this mess and dealing with my simultaneous over- and under-use of commas, among other things. 
> 
> And of course Soph for creating this AU in the first place, and inflicting me with the brainworms that have carried me for the past three months. 
> 
> Thank you all so much, I couldn't have gotten through this without you!!!


End file.
